


Dark Paradise

by mannybothans



Series: The Lucky Ones [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Ending, Alternate Reality, Angst, Chevy Impala, Classic Cars, Death, F/M, Feels, Fluff, Foreigner, Lady GaGa - Freeform, Pairings, Possession, Premonition, Smut, Soooo much angst, Supernatural AU - Freeform, The Colt - Freeform, an au inside an au, evil coven, ford mustang, muscle cars, precog, so many feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-01
Updated: 2018-03-14
Packaged: 2019-03-25 16:37:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 69,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13838766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mannybothans/pseuds/mannybothans
Summary: Last of the series "The Lucky Ones."Dean and Sam wake up in an alternate reality - one where they lead normal lives and is void of monsters. They learn they can re-start relationships and regain their old lives, with old friends, and not worry about death coming just yet. Or can they? Familiar faces may have answers they seek. Big Bad is on the way and it's a race against time to stop it. Will life be the same when they return to their own world or will the loss be too much to bear?





	1. Double Vision

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter 14 is the alternate ending to this that I wrote after the fact. I originally didn't intend on publishing it as part of this story but it just felt right.

**Day One**

“Hey, guys! You can’t sleep in here. C’mon, get a move on!” Dean was startled awake at the sound of a strange voice and a hand slapping the hood of the car. With one eye half-open, he sat up and looked around. “Let’s go, guys! We need to move this car.”

“Sam?”

Sam drowsily sat up, pinching the bridge of his nose between his forefinger and thumb. “What’s going on, Dean?”

Dean opened the door and stepped out of the gray ’67 Chevy Impala that was in a sea of vintage muscle cars. People were strolling around and the smell of grilled meat wafted to Dean’s nose. His stomach grumbled very loudly.

“Dean? What the hell is this?” Sam asked again, as he stepped out of the backseat and looked around.

Several minutes went by and Sam, sensing the utter shock radiating off Dean, finally approached a couple of guys who were fawning over a 1964 Pontiac.

The guys giggled and waved a hand, “Um duh, you’re at Cinecars.” They looked at each other and laughed again, then walked away.

Sam sighed and dragged a hand down his face, taking it all in.

“Dude, I’m hungry,” Dean piped up; his head turned toward a concession stand – the source of the smell of grilled meats, buttery popped corn, and way too much sugar.

“Seriously, Dean?”

“What? I can’t think on an empty stomach.” The older Winchester brother made a bee-line straight for the stand and Sam prayed for patience as he followed.

Sam shook his head as Dean devoured his second hamburger, taking a swig of beer with each bite. When he finished, Dean wiped his hands on his jeans and nodded. Still chewing, he said, “Ok, now let’s figure out what the fuck is going on. And where the hell we are.”

Dean’s green eyes swept over their surroundings yet again. He had to admit, of all the places to wake up in, a drive-in filled with classic muscle cars wasn’t the worst place.

“Most of these plates are Georgia plates, Dean.” Sam said as his eyes also did another sweep of their immediate area. He pulled out his cell phone, hoping that he had some kind of cellular signal. “And I have signal?” Sam said, confused. He noticed the carrier was different from the one he usually had, but shrugged and opened the map application. He zoomed out a few times, zoomed back in, tilted his head, and said “huh.”

“So? Where are we?” Dean leaned in, looking at Sam’s screen.. “Atlanta? Atlanta, Georgia.” He considered it then grinned as a very curvy woman strolled by, “Peach State indeed.”

“Okay, now we just need to find out how we got here,” Sam said, trying to direct Dean’s attention back on topic.

“Do we?” Dean asked, eyeing yet another woman – this one was wearing a very tight pencil skirt, low-cut blouse with ample cleavage, a kerchief around her neck, and looked the very essence of a pin-up model.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” the woman called over and walked away.

“Dude, focus!”

“Whaaaat? C’mon Sammy. What are we going to do, introduce ourselves to some random strangers and hint that we have no idea how we got here?”

Sam shrugged, “It’s a starting point.”

The guys strolled around and checked out the cars while trying to blend in. Several of the muscle cars had been pulled off to the side and photographers swarmed the vehicles. Some of the autos had models perched on them in various poses with the owners nearby. The brothers listened to conversations and Sam looked at his phone again to double-check the date and time. It was October, 2014, alright. He kept taking mental notes and finally a black ’67 Ford Mustang caught Sam’s eye. He motioned to Dean that he was going to go check it out.

Dean nodded and decided to follow. Sam bent over, looking in through the driver’s window and admiring the exceptional interior. Dean whistled and Sam exhaled heavily, running a hand through his hair. “She is pristine, Dean. Holy cow.”

“She should be, she’s yours,” said a voice from behind them. Sam turned around and saw a younger guy standing a few feet away. He tried to mask the confusion on his face with a grin and a nod.

“It is? I mean, it sure is.” He exchanged a glance with Dean, who looked equally confused.

“Where you guys been? You missed the photo time slot for Baby, here,” the younger guy went on. He was wiping his hands on a rag, a jar of wax by his feet. “I gave her a good waxing, so she’d shine. You better ask Loretta if she’ll work you guys in before sunset.”

“Uh, thanks…?” Sam paused, waiting for the kid to fill in his name.

“Matt. Jeeze, Sam, did you hit your head?” Matt shook his head and walked off, looking pretty irked.

“Okay, so if you’re driving this, then the Impala must still be mine,” Dean said after a moment. A grin spread out on his face and he clapped Sam on the back. “Let’s go get her!”

They headed over to the Impala, which had also been moved off to the side and had a sizeable crowd around it. A couple people were futilely ushering the crowd back step by step. One on-looker put a greasy hand on the Impala’s side panel and Dean growled before he crouched down and used his shirt to lovingly wipe away the smear. Meanwhile, Sam moved back into the crowd. As Dean rejoined him a couple feet from the car, Sam suddenly hit him in the stomach. “What the hell, Sam?”

“Dean. Look.” Sam grabbed his brother’s head and turned it towards the front of the car. Perched on the hood was a familiar-looking model. The boys’ eyes traveled from her high heels, up legs that seemed to go for days, to her high-waist shorts that really didn’t leave much to the imagination, the cropped top that was extremely low-cut, red lips, winged eyeliner, bumper bangs and a kerchief tied around her head.

“Holy shit,” Dean breathed. “Christa?” He asked, louder.

The model turned, mid-pose, when she heard her name. She flashed a sultry smile at the guys standing by the Impala she was sitting on top of. “Hey, you’re in my shots… can you move aside? I’ll be done in about fifteen minutes and we can take some selfies.”

Dean’s jaw dropped as she winked at them, her bright blue eyes unmistakable. Sam had to practically drag him aside by the collar of his shirt. “Dean she doesn’t know who we are,” Sam hissed into his ear.

“So, we introduce ourselves,” Dean smirked, his eyes never leaving the woman posed on the Impala.

“Hey, you, tall guy,” one of the photographers called to Sam. “Hey, get in here.”

“He doesn’t really match my aesthetic, Bill,” Christa said. Bill shook his head, motioning for Sam to get closer to the car.

“He’s beautiful, Christa. Work with me,” Bill said as Sam shuffled forward.

Sam’s eyes went from Christa to Bill and back again, confusion written all over his face. “Uh, what, uh, what should I do?”

Bill snapped several photos of Sam as he nervously ran his hand through his hair, the other deep in his jeans pocket.

“Well, lose the plaid, lumberjack. And Christa, help him out, will you? Be sexy.”

Sam pulled off his button-up shirt and threw it at Dean, who caught it with a glare.

“Oh, hello,” Christa purred and grabbed one of Sam’s biceps. She studied his face and then let her gaze drop all the way down his body before it came back up. A seductive smirk tugged at her lips. “You’re beautiful.” Sam’s ears were ringing as blood rushed through his body, adrenaline coursing through his veins. He had no idea why he was so bashful around her.

“Uh, you are, too.” Sam stuttered.

“C’mon, lovelies! Wasting daylight!” Bill called out. He was switching the film hastily.

“You ever do this before?” She asked Sam. He shook his head. “Follow my lead, then,” Christa said and she leaned against the front passenger door as she pushed her chest out and pulled Sam in front of her. Sam swallowed and placed his far hand on the roof of the car while he moved one leg so it was positioned almost between hers. “Nicely done,” Christa said as she tilted her face up towards his. Their lips were only centimeters apart and he restrained the urge to kiss her. She stared into his eyes for a few shots, then subtly shifted and looked down at his lips. Sam felt a shiver go down his spine and he clenched his jaw and reminded himself this wasn’t the Christa he knew.

“Oh my God! Work it, come on, yes!” Bill was urging.

Christa turned around and pushed her hips back into Sam’s. She took his hand closest to the camera and put it on her hip, then turned her face towards the camera, but lowered her gaze and parted her lips just a bit.

“That’s so hot!” Bill exclaimed again, snapping rapidly. “Look at you two: electric!”

They moved more frequently as Sam became a little more comfortable and followed her lead. Christa sat on the hood, leaning back on her hands as Sam positioned himself between her legs, leaning down as if he were going to claim her. After that, she climbed into the Impala’s driver seat while Sam got in passenger-side. She put her feet out of the window as she laid her head in Sam’s lap and winked up at him, seeing his face flush when he glanced down at her. “Hey, handsome. What’s your name, anyway?”

Sam cleared his throat and looked out the window as Bill snapped through the windshield. “Sam. Sam Winchester.”

“Hot name for a hot guy,” Christa said as she sat up. They climbed out of the car and Bill turned, eyeing Dean. “What now, Bill?” The photographer pivoted back to Christa, his eyes wide.

“Babes,” He jerked his head towards Dean, letting his eyes do all the talking. “What do you think?”

Christa sized up Dean and smiled, “Sure, why not? I can handle two hunks.” Sam coughed and she turned back to him, concern all over her face. “Someone get this tall drink of man some water.” As if on cue, someone appeared and handed Sam a water bottle. “Get in here, cutie,” she was ordering Dean. “Lose the shirt, too.”

Dean pointed at himself as he glanced around. When Christa nodded, he removed his over shirt and balled it up, thrusting both shirts into the arms of the person who’d handed Sam the water.

Nearby, someone’s car radio started blasting Foreigner’s “Double Vision.”

 _Feeling down 'n' dirty, feeling kinda mean_ _  
I've been from one to another extreme_

Dean slid into the driver’s seat and Christa positioned herself at his window, bending over and giving him a fantastic view of her cleavage.

 _This time I had a good time, ain't got time to wait_ _  
I wanna stick around till I can't see straight_

He ignored the cleavage next to his face and looked straight ahead, pulling off his best “blue steel.”

 _Fill my eyes with that double vision_ _  
No disguise for that double vision_

Dean slid out of the driver’s seat and into the backseat. Sam took his place up front and Christa leaned against the car, looking down over her shoulder into the car at the boys.

 _Ooh, when it gets through to me, it's always new to me_ _  
My double vision gets the best of me_

Christa slid into the backseat and climbed onto Dean’s lap. Bill hurried around the car to snap shots from the side. Sam glanced in the rear view and watched as Christa gently touched Dean’s face. She pulled Dean’s hand around her hips and set it right on the curve of her ass, between the pockets of her shorts. Sam was impressed that Dean’s face didn’t falter once. Dean stared up at Christa for a few clicks, his nerves screaming, and then turned his head to the side as if he were completely disinterested.

“Just a few more, kids! Outside the car!” Bill called, once again exchanging his roll of film.

_My double vision always seems to get the best of me, the best of me, yeah-ah_

Dean posed against the car, his arms folded across his chest to show off his upper arm muscles. Christa stood slightly in front of him and Sam stood behind her, one arm draped over her shoulder, head bent down as if he were whispering in her ear.

Next, Christa turned to Dean and put a hand on his chest. She smiled at him and winked as she moved her face within centimeters of his. Sam stood behind Christa, their hips not quite touching. Dean put a hand on her right hip; Sam put a hand on her left hip. Christa stared into the brilliant green eyes in front of her, feeling as if an electrical current were running from him, into her, and out through Sam.

“What’s your name, cowboy?”

“Dean. Winchester.” He watched her face light up and smirked.

“Oh! Brothers, huh?”

He didn’t need to answer her question. They did a few more poses around the exterior of the car where she was between the two men, looking at first one, then the other. A strange sensation of being safe, safer than she’d ever felt before between two complete strangers, and of indecision with whom to interact with more made things a little more difficult for her, but she channeled that into a sexual energy for the photos.

“Last one! Guys in front seat, Christa you lay across them.”

The guys looked at each as if to see if one was going to chicken out. Then they both slid into the front seat: Dean into the driver’s side and Sam the passenger’s, just like normal. Christa backed in, sitting herself on Dean’s lap before she scooted towards the middle. Instead of putting her head in his lap again, she leaned against Sam’s chest and bent her knees. One of her heels lightly dug into Dean’s thigh. Sam draped an arm down her front, his hand resting lightly on her lower abdomen. Dean took her other ankle in his hand and held it up as if he were about to slide her shoe off.

Christa shivered and felt like each one was laying claim to her as both pairs of eyes raked over her body.

“And we got it! Great job, as usual Christa. Jesus, you can feel the damn chemistry! Where have you guys been hiding?” Bill was grinning widely and fanning himself.

Sam and Dean exchanged another somewhat uncomfortable look. “We’re uh, we’re not from around here.” Sam finally said as he took their shirts back from the assistant.

Dean cleared his throat and reached for his wallet. “Actually, we’re from the FBI. I need to see this car’s registration.”

Sam followed suit and they pulled out ID holders, flipping them open to where the FBI badge should have been.

Christa leaned in and looked at each one, then at the face of each man in front of her. A slow smirk spread across her face and she folded her arms over her chest. “Ha ha, guys. Very funny. The car belongs to me. You could have just asked.”

Exchanging another uncomfortable look, they looked more closely at the holders. Where Sam’s badge should have been was a business card for “Samuel M. Winchester – Environmental Lawyer, Lawrence, KS.” Dean looked and his was a business card for “Dean C. Winchester – Hell’s Garage, Lawrence, KS.”

“You guys might be in the wrong line of business,” she said, winking at them again. “Couple of hotties like you could make some serious money modeling. Have you ever considered acting?”

The brothers shook their heads, confusion overwhelming both of them.

“Too bad,” Christa said, shrugging. “Nice meeting you guys.” She leaned up and kissed Sam on the cheek, then did the same to Dean. “If you’re staying the night, come find me later. I’ve got a cooler and portable grill. Dinner’s on me – as thanks for being such good sports.”

Dean’s mouth was working but no sound was coming out. Sam grinned, still absolutely bewildered and on the verge of laughing at how ridiculous everything was, “Sure, Christa. We’ll come find you later.”

“I’ll be parked in front of Screen 2,” she said as the assistant handed her a set of keys that looked remarkably like Dean’s.

Sam grabbed Dean by the collar again and hauled him off before Dean could explode from shock. They marched in silence back to the black Mustang. Sure enough, Sam saw it had Kansas tags. He opened the driver’s side door and slid in, his brain going five hundred miles an hour. Dean slid into the passenger seat. They sat together in complete silence for several minutes.

“Hey guys!” Matt popped up, scaring both Winchesters. They automatically reached for their guns and realized they weren’t there. Sam clenched his fists in his lap and took a deep breath. “What’s up?” Matt poked his head in and looked concerned. “You guys okay?”

“Yeah. Just been a long day.”

Matt grinned widely, “Yeah tell me about it! Anyway, I talked to Loretta for you and she said she would be available tomorrow morning to shoot and not sooner. We don’t have to be off the lot until noon, so that should give you plenty of time.”

Dean thought for a minute then looked at Matt. “Hey, bud, uh, did we hire a model for our shoot?”

Matt laughed. “Hire? No. The models get paid by the event staff. Which one did you want? I’ll see if I can make something happen.”

“How old are you, Matt?” Sam asked, almost interrupting him.

Matt gave Sam a look that said he thought Sam must be crazy. “Still 25, Sam. I’ll go get you some water.”

“We want Christa!” Dean shouted after him.

The afternoon sped by as the Winchesters hung out by the Ford. Several groups of people stopped by and snapped pictures. Women sandwiched themselves in between the brothers as their begrudging significant others took pictures for something called an “Instagram.”

One of the women who approached them almost squealed with delight. “You guys look like actors! Is this your car?”

“It’s mine,” Sam nodded, giving her a half-smile. The woman squealed again and excitedly took several pictures before running off. Sam sighed and shoved his hands into his pockets. The afternoon had gotten unseasonably warm, so both of their button-up shirts were tossed into the back seat. In between strangers, they talked quietly about how they might have gotten here.

“Maybe we drove through one of those portal things without realizing it. This world doesn’t seem that much different from ours, anyway. Could have driven right through one on the highway and never even seen it,” Dean said. “We pulled off the highway and into an empty lot to sleep.” Dean thought for a moment. “Do you think someone would have sent us here without us knowing?”

Sam shrugged. “Either one seems plausible. We just need to figure out how the hell we’re going to get back.” He looked at Dean, who was scanning the crowd with a satisfied look on his face.

“Or not.”

“What? Dean. We can’t just stay here on Earth-2.”

Dean flipped open his wallet and inspected it more closely finding several more bills of cash, a Kansas driver’s license and more mechanic business cards. “Why not, Sammy? We have jobs. We have identification. We don’t have to worry about when our next meal is, who we’ll have to save next, or what Lucifer’s planning on doing. It’s not our circus, anymore!”

Sam sighed, looking through his own wallet. Debit card, credit cards in his own name, cash, business cards, receipts for gas and food and one from an ATM. Behind the receipt was a folded up photograph. He pulled it out and unfolded it, his jaw going slack. “Dude, check it out.” He tilted the photo towards Dean. In it, Sam and Dean were flanking their mother outside their old house in Kansas. Dean muttered a curse and snatched the picture from Sam.

Sam walked around to the trunk of the Mustang. He unlocked it slowly, not knowing what to expect. What if these identities were just so they could blend in easier? He sighed as the trunk opened and not a single weapon, syringe, sliver of wood or stray bullet was to be found. The only things in the boot were a couple expensive sleeping bags, pillows, and two small hand-crafted leather weekend bags. Stumped, Sam shut the trunk. “I need a drink.”

As the sun began to lower over the drive-in, the lost Winchester brothers wandered through the cars and crowds again. Music from a live set mixed with car radios, which were muffled by modified subwoofers thumping bass. Dean approached a group of women who were drinking and dancing with each other as a rap song blared out of their 2012 Charger. Sam hung back, letting Dean do whatever it was he did. A couple minutes later, Dean was flashing the women a peace sign and they were blowing him kisses.

“Come back and see us, Dean!” They chorused. Dean grinned and tossed Sam a cold beer.

“Here you go, champ. Drink number one.”

Sam popped open the beer can and took a very long chug. Dean did the same and they continued on.

After a couple minutes, Dean nudged Sam’s arm with the back of his hand. “Check it out, Sammy. Screen Two.”

Sure enough, the gray Impala was parked in the middle of the screen’s lot. Several chairs and people, holding red plastic cups and talking over the music pumping out of the car’s speakers, surrounded it.

“Hey guys!” A familiar voice called out. They both turned to see Christa approaching them from behind. She had changed into worn-in cowboy boots but her shorts and cropped top remained. Her hips swung as she strode towards them, a wide grin on her still-red lips. Sam and Dean were both dumbstruck as she walked up to them and pulled her hair up into a ponytail. “Glad you found the party. Someone get these boys some burgers! Come on, let’s get you a real drink.” She eyed the cans of light beer in their hands and then stepped around them to make a bee-line for a large cooler by one of the back tires.

Sam shrugged and Dean proceeded to finish his entire beer then tossed the can over his shoulder. Sam sighed and picked it up. They followed her to the cooler and she presented the guys with a red plastic cup each and poured a generous amount of whiskey into them. Once she had poured for herself, she raised her cup to theirs before taking a deep gulp.

Sam took a small sip and Dean, not to be outdone, downed the whiskey in two big swallows. He smacked his lips and smiled. “Aaah. Nothing like a good Irish whiskey. Tullamore?”

Christa’s eyes sparkled as she smiled at his knowledge. “Nice call, Dean. I like a man who knows his whiskey.”

“Well, I like a woman who tastes like it.” He winked at her.

Someone came up and thrust a burger into each of their hands. Sam took a huge bite out of his, still trying to process what was happening, especially with Christa and Dean.

Christa blushed and laughed at Dean’s comment. “I guess we’ll have no issues getting along then,” she quipped and poured him another drink as he bit into his burger.

A few of her friends came up to them and chatted for a few minutes. Sam had to admit she had some really attractive friends. Sam’s heart skipped a beat when he noticed a very familiar tall blonde approach him. Not wanting to seem creepy by blurting out intimate details, Sam began asking her questions about her life. He looked around and saw Dean talking to a couple guys about cars just a couple feet away. Dusk was slowly settling into twilight.

Suddenly, the song coming from the car radio changed into a techno-sounding song that slowly grew louder. Christa danced her way from around the Impala, hips swaying and hands in the air – somehow not spilling a single drop from her cup. She started singing along to the lyrics as she neared Dean, a seductive gleam in her eyes.

_I want your whiskey mouth  
All over my blonde south_

Dean licked his lips, his attention fully on Christa. She put a hand on his chest, singing the next lines:

 _Red wine cheap perfume and a filthy pout_  
_Tonight bring your friends_  
_Because a group does it better_

Christa spun around and pressed her back against Dean’s chest, her hips now gyrating a bit as she danced on him in time to the song. Sam felt hypnotized. A pang of envy clenched his heart and he had to remind himself that he was no longer in the world where Christa had chosen him. She wasn’t a hunter and they weren’t even friends.

The blonde that he was convinced was Jess smiled up at him, as if reading his mind. “Christa’s a fun one. She likes to be the center of attention once in awhile.”

Sam nodded, “Seems like it. What’s your name?”

“Jessica, but I go by Jess. You?”

“Sam. Nice to meet you, Jess,” he took her hand and brought it up to his mouth, lightly kissing her knuckles. Jess giggled, her blue eyes sparkling up at him.

“Have we met? You seem oddly familiar.”

He just grinned down at her and changed the subject. The envy he felt about Christa and Dean disappeared as he got to know Jess for the second time and felt himself falling in love with her all over again.

Dean was entranced. This Christa, this uninhibited, carefree version of the woman he’d known since he was thirteen, was dancing on him and around him. After the first chorus and while she was facing him, she draped her arms over his shoulders and lightly ground her hips into his. Dean stared into her eyes and put his free hand on her hip, a small growl building in his chest. Three months ago, if someone had told him Christa would be all over him, he would have laughed it off.

Christa stared into his green eyes, really looking at him and not just focusing on him for photos. Her lips parted as her brows furrowed just a tiny bit as the song and dance were forgotten. Dean felt like she was looking into his soul, seeing him for the first time. He tilted his head towards her and she leaned in to meet his lips with hers.

Dean slid his hand around to the small of her back as their tongues met. Christa’s free hand went to the back of Dean’s head – as if she could pull him any closer to her. He heard a quiet moan escape her and he gladly reciprocated. They kissed for several more seconds before he gently pulled away. She was breathless and her blue eyes were wide in surprise.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

“Don’t be, kitten,” Dean whispered back. The Christa he knew would have socked him for calling her that, but the one in front of him just smiled shyly.

“That was totally not me. I just… it was so weird. I feel like I know you from somewhere,” Christa continued, searching his face for something, maybe a clue.

A smile came to Dean’s lips and he nodded, “I know the feeling.”

The radio in her car turned to static and then Dean heard a familiar succession of notes, alerting everyone that a movie was about to start. He looked over his shoulder at the screen, then back at Christa. A voice nearby yelled, “Down in front!”

Christa laughed and took Dean’s hand to lead him to a couple of empty folding chairs by the Impala. They sat down next to each other, their pinkies hooked with one another’s, as the movie began. Sam was sitting on a blanket several feet away talking to a blonde woman.


	2. Long, Long Way From Home

**DAY TWO**

Dean stirred and he instantly knew he’d fallen asleep in the Impala. He shifted, trying to raise his arm to cover his face but it was weighed down by something. One green eye opened, followed by the other, and he blinked the sleep out of his eyes. A woman was asleep on top of him and he smirked as his mind started bringing up foggy memories of the night before.

He gently shifted to free his other arm and the woman on top of him stirred and moaned sleepily. Just as Dean was starting to remember that he and Sam had traveled into a twilight-zone-opposite-land world, the woman on him slowly began to sit up. She braced herself with her arms on either side of him as she lifted her torso, one deep blue eye looking around sleepily.

She finally looked down at the man under her and smiled. “Hey, you.”

“Mornin’,” Dean mumbled; he definitely had whiskey mouth. He took in the sight of her, still dressed in her modeling clothes, though her boots had been kicked off. Her shirt sleeves were pushed off her shoulders and he got a not unwanted eyeful of her cleavage as she held herself over him. He slid a hand from her waist to the side of her breast and watched as she gently bit her lip.

Christa’s blue eyes glanced around the car’s interior and then outside. Most everyone had packed up and left sometime during the night. She pushed herself up and Dean slid into an upright position, sliding his legs to the floorboard. Dean watched as she half-climbed over the front seat and reached down to the floorboards for a big bag. Bent over the seat back, she pulled out clothing and a small baggie that held her toothbrush and toothpaste.

“Sweetheart, you’re killin’ me,” he groaned, watching her ass.

“Good thing I know mouth-to-mouth,” she quipped as she lowered herself on to the back seat again. She smirked at him, unable to shake the weird feeling that she knew him from somewhere. “Are you sure we haven’t met?”

“Almost positive,” Dean replied. “Well, maybe in another life.” That comment earned him a puzzled look from Christa. It lasted only a moment before she leaned over and kissed his lips.

“I’m going to go get changed, gorgeous. Don’t leave without saying bye,” she said as she slid out of the car.

Dean sat in the back seat of a vehicle that was nearly identical to his Impala, except that it was gray on the exterior. He rubbed the back of his head and then climbed out of back seat, himself. The parking lot was mostly empty, so it only took him a minute to reach the Mustang. He cautiously glanced inside, not having seen Sam on the way back to the car. Sure enough, his little brother was asleep inside and the blonde he’d been talking to last night had her hand down the front of his pants and was curled up next to him. Dean grinned when he recognized Jess and tapped on the window, then turned away.

Sam startled awake and immediately regretted moving quickly as an intense tingling sensation jolted through his limbs. He groaned and the sound woke up Jess. She slowly sat up and disentangled herself from Sam, pulling her hand out of his pants. Sam smiled at her, unsure if this was real, and then looked out the window; Dean was standing next to the car with his hands in his pockets. Sam climbed out of the car and stretched. Several pops happened as he stretched his neck and back.

“What’s up?” He asked Dean mid-yawn.

“Can you pop the trunk? I need to brush my teeth and change out of this shirt.” Dean sniffed his shirt and then shrugged, finding it smelled nicer than he thought it would. Sam opened the boot and Dean reached in and grabbed one of the leather bags making sure it was his before he opened it and pulled out his toiletries.

The photo shoot was completely forgotten while the guys cleaned up. Sam let Matt go home and the photographers all packed up. Dean found Christa as she was rearranging the items in her trunk. Her jeans were snug and low-cut and he stopped to fully appreciate her curves.

“Didn’t your parents tell you not to stare?” Christa said as she stood up and closed the trunk.

Dean just scratched his chin and grinned. “They told me to make sure I stop and appreciate the beautiful things in life.”

Christa grinned back at him. She’d washed off the makeup from yesterday and more resembled the casual Christa that Dean knew. He must have been staring because she playfully pushed him. “Never seen a woman without makeup?”

He cleared this throat. “No, just… you’re beautiful.” He paused, unsure of how to word the next question as he looked over her body. “Did we…?”

“Fuck? No. But damn, I wanted to,” she said, her voice dropping. “Neither one of us had protection.” Christa shrugged and leaned against the driver’s side back door, folding her arms over her chest.

“So if I?” Dean began.

Christa laughed and Dean couldn’t help but admire how relaxed she was around him. “If you play your cards right,” she finally answered.

Dean stepped up to her, closing the distance between them. He put his hands on her hips and leaned in, lowering his voice to a whisper. “I just so happen to be very good at cards, sweetheart.” His thumbs slid into her belt loops as he gripped her hips just a little tighter. Bright green eyes went from her blue ones to her lips and back again, asking permission without using his voice.

Her body tensed as a slow burn began between her legs. Memories of making out with him in her backseat – how he touched her, kissed her, held her, wanted her – flooded her mind and she shivered. Christa’s eyes closed as she pressed her lips against his luscious mouth. His tongue instantly darted out, flicking against her lips until she opened for him. A soft moan once again escaped her as she felt an overwhelming sense that she knew him from somewhere, that he would protect her, and that they had a deep-seated connection somehow. One of his hands buried itself into her hair at the back of her head and the other slid behind her to squeeze her ass. Their kiss grew deeper when she felt as if she would lose him if she stopped. Christa’s hands went to his waist and she balled her fists into his tee shirt.

A low whistle from behind Dean stopped any potential development between him and Christa. He made a sound almost like a growl as he pulled away from her lips. Her eyes opened and gazed into his before slowly focusing on somebody behind him. Dean released her hair and gave her rear another hard squeeze. “This better be important,” he said, his voice gruff and deep.

“Sorry, Dean. But I kinda need my friend back at some point. I have to get to work later and we’re gonna go eat breakfast.” Dean turned his head, a bit stunned to actually hear Jess’ voice again. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Sam and Jess holding hands. It made his heart ache and feel full all at once – he could only imagine how Sam felt.

He turned back to Christa and brushed his thumb over her lips before he planted another kiss on her delicious lips. “Breakfast, huh?”

Christa’s eyes sparkled with a laugh that she didn’t let escape. “Dean? Would you like to join Jess and I for breakfast? Sam?” She looked over Dean’s shoulder again as she said his brother’s name.

“I’d love to,” Sam said.

Dean nodded in agreement and leaned in once more, his lips next to her ear and voice impossibly low. “I’d rather have you for breakfast.”

Before Christa could react, Dean pushed himself off her and he and Sam were walking to their car. “We’ll follow you!” Sam called out over his shoulder. Christa stood against her car feeling as if she were on the verge of melting into a puddle.

Jess must have seen her dazed look because she started laughing. “Ummm earth to Christa?? Put it in your pants, doll, I’m starving.”

Christa took a deep breath and climbed into the driver’s seat as Jess slid in to the passenger’s side. She put the key in the ignition and let her head drop and hit the steering wheel as the motor purred to life. “Jess,” she moaned.

Her friend laughed again, shaking her head. “I know, right? Where the hell did these guys come from? And why do I feel like I’ve known Sam all my life?”

Christa sat up straight as the hair on the back of her neck prickled. “You what?”

Jess’s blue eyes, filled with concern, met Christa’s. “I feel like I’ve known Sam for a very long time,” she said slowly. “What’s wrong, dude?”

“Nothing,” Christa exhaled and shifted the car into drive. “Just hungry.”

The guys followed the women to a hole-in-the-wall and they all ordered more food than they could eat. Sam could barely keep his eyes off Jess the entire time. Dean couldn’t blame him – she was just as beautiful as she was when he’d met her. He also recalled that she was in his dream when the Djinn had captured him and he felt his heart sink.

When they were leaving the diner, he pulled Sam aside. “Dude. What if this is a Djinn dream?”

“What? Both of us having the same dream? I don’t remember hunting Djinn before we got here, Dean.”

“Me either,” the older Winchester admitted but still something felt off. This world was too quiet, too perfect. Jess was alive, Christa was all over him, and their mom was likely still alive. “We should head back to Kansas.”

“To see Mom,” Sam stated rather than asked. Dean nodded and then the women approached them. They separated and each brother took a woman in his arms.

Sam and Jess whispered to each other and Jess giggled quietly. Dean glanced over and saw them exchange phone numbers, a smile adorning his face regardless of how on-edge he was.

Christa slipped her phone number into Dean’s front jeans pocket with a sly grin on her face. “For later, in case you get lonely.”

Dean bit his lip and studied her face, again. This had to be a dream. He forced a smile at her and kissed her lips softly. “Well, I think we’re actually headed back to Kansas, sweetheart.”

She couldn’t stop a frown from creasing her brow and she averted her eyes quickly, finding something worth studying on the ground. “Oh. Right.”

“Give me your phone,” Dean said. Christa complied quickly, unlocking the screen for him. He pulled up her contacts, added his name and number, and put in the address of the house in Lawrence. He thought for a moment and added the coordinates for the bunker outside Lebanon. “If you’re ever out my way, you can find me at this address and if I’m not there, then try these coordinates.” He handed her phone back. “You owe me a game of cards.”

Christa smiled at that, a small flush coming over her face. “Got it. Thanks for the all the fish, Winchester.” Dean gave her a confused look and she laughed, which he loved. “Sorry, _Hitchhiker’s_ reference.” He looked even more confused and she shook her head, covering her mouth with her hand as another burst of laughter escaped. “Nevermind! I’ll have to introduce you to it, I guess. Sometime.”

Dean kissed her deeply, taking the opportunity to feel her up one more time. He wished he could just send Sam back to Kansas – certainly he would if there wasn’t a picture of their living mother in his wallet. “Don’t wait too long,” he murmured as he pulled away from her wanting mouth.

“Okay,” she whispered and stepped back. Dean’s hand dropped to hers and he held it for a moment as she pulled away, feeling her fingers slip through his one by one.

Sam and Jess were furiously making out, now. Dean cleared his throat, interrupting them as payback for interrupting him earlier. They pulled away, somewhat bashful and Sam kissed her forehead as she stepped back. “Don’t forget about me, Sam,” Jess said softly.

Sam’s face hardened and he swallowed a lump in his throat. “I would never,” he assured her. “Talk soon.”

“Talk soon.”

* * *

“Maybe you’re right, Dean. Maybe we don’t find our way back. Maybe we stay here and live out our lives with Mom and Jess and Christa and whomever else.” Sam said as the Mustang roared down the interstate.

Dean nodded, contemplating it. He let a long silence pass then asked, “So you’re not totally weird about Christa and me? Like, seeing us doesn’t make you jealous?”

“You know, it’s kind of weird. But then there’s Jess? I think I’d be more weirded out if Jess wasn’t here. And probably pretty jealous.”

Another long silence before Dean asked, “Sammy, do you think Bobby’s alive here?”

Sam’s jaw clenched and his knuckles turned white as he gripped the steering wheel tightly. “Maybe. Maybe Jo and Ellen are alive. Gordon, too, even Adam. It could be that everyone’s alive, Dean. Why wouldn’t they be? There are no monsters, here.”

Dean nodded again, slowly, thinking it over. “Are we dead?”

Sam glanced at him and then laughed a short, staccato laugh. “I don’t think so, Dean. Heaven wasn’t like this… neither was Hell.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Let’s just get back to Lawrence. I wanna see Mom.” Dean closed his eyes and leaned back, folding his arms over his chest. It was nice to not be the one driving for once. Sam turned down the music and got lost in his thoughts as his body went on auto-pilot driving them home. If they ever did get back to their own world, he had no idea what he would tell Christa – especially about Jessica.

A little over fourteen hours later, the 1967 Ford Mustang pulled up in front of the Winchester home in Lawrence, Kansas. Dean stared out the window, unsure what to do. It was close to one in the morning and they weren’t positive their mom even still lived there. Sam pulled out the picture again, checking for any kind of date. Sure enough, there was a time stamp that read May, 2012 in the bottom corner. The house behind them was definitely this house.

“Let’s just come back in the morning,” Dean finally said, breaking the silence. He opened his own wallet and looked at his license, then gave Sam the address on it and Sam shifted the Mustang into gear.

Sam dropped Dean off at Hell’s Garage. Dean looked confused until Sam pointed out there was an apartment above it. Dean retrieved his leather bag from the trunk and banged twice on the side of the car to say goodnight. He stood outside the garage as Sam drove off. When he turned a corner, Dean finally dug out his keys and unlocked the door that led upstairs.

Once upstairs, he unlocked a second door and promptly lied down on the couch, exhausted.

**DAY THREE**

Startled awake by his phone ringing, Sam scrambled to grab it off the coffee table. He didn’t even look at the screen before he answered.

“Mr. Winchester? Are you feeling okay? You missed your eight o’clock meeting with Mrs. Tyler.”

Sam groaned, remembering that he had a fancy job to pay for this apartment. He cleared his throat and coughed a few times. “Sorry, I don’t think I’m going to make it in today. I’m pretty under the weather,” he lied.

The woman on the other end paused and then she replied, “Well, I’ll take messages for you today. I hope you feel better, Mr. Winchester. Get some rest and drink plenty of fluids!”

“Thanks, I will.” Sam coughed a couple more times for good measure before he hung up. The caller ID read _OFFICE_. “Fuck.” He sent a text to Dean telling him he’d be by to pick him up in an hour.

Dean met Sam outside the garage. The bay doors were already open and the guys inside were hard at work. He lied and said he had a family emergency to tend to.

When Sam pulled up, he slid into the passenger seat and the tires squealed as Sam sped off towards their mom’s house.

They pulled up in front again and both took a deep breath before stepping out of the car. Dean rubbed his hands together nervously as they walked up the path to the front door.

“You’re sure she’s here?” Dean asked for the twelfth time.

“Yes, Dean. I looked her up and even looked in the Yellow Pages. She’s here.”

Dean exhaled slowly and pushed the doorbell.

They waited in silence, adrenaline coursing through their veins.

Finally, they heard footsteps approach and the lock clicked. Mary opened the door and saw her sons standing before her. “Sam? Dean? What are you guys doing here? Come inside.”

Sam and Dean took their time studying every photograph on every shelf. John was in several of them, but they noticed he wasn’t in any after Dean was around 15 years old.

“I miss him,” Dean muttered, picking up a picture of him and John playing catch.

Mary rubbed his shoulder and smiled softly. “I know, Dean. But he’d be so proud of you, owning your own garage, working on cars like he used to. It’s not fair that cancer hit him so young.”

Dean turned around and hugged his mother.

They spent the day at the house talking about life and listening to Mary’s stories about their childhoods. Nothing involved demons or witches or ghosts or skin-walkers. Soon enough, Mary was reminding them of embarrassing things they’d done as children and all of them were laughing.

Around 2PM Dean’s phone vibrated in his pocket and he excused himself, convinced it was Christa. A smile spread across his face and he answered with a low, “Hello.”

“Dean Winchester, where the hell are you? The guys at the garage said you had a family emergency this morning! Is everything okay?  Is Mary okay?”

Dean faltered, unsure of how to respond or who this was. He pulled the phone away from his ear and looked at the caller ID that was simply a bunch of hearts. Inwardly groaning, he put the phone back to his ear. “Uh, yeah, sorry. Mom’s fine. I’ll call you later, sweetheart.”

“I’ll see you tonight for dinner.” The female voice on the other end sounded more than mildly perturbed. It was at this point that Dean’s eyes landed on a photograph of himself and a short brunette. “And thanks for not waking me up last night. I guess you guys got in super late.”

The news that there was a woman in his apartment made Dean even more uneasy. What was going on? Last time a Djinn captured him, he knew he was dreaming. He knew everything wasn’t real but this time, he wasn’t so sure. “Yeah, okay, listen, we’ll talk later.”

A kissy noise from the woman on the other end effectively ended their conversation.

Confused more than ever, Dean walked back into the living room and was met with questioning looks from Sam and Mary. “Uh, that was my uh,”

“Miranda?” Mary asked, her eyes narrowing.

“Right, Miranda.” His eyes darted over to Sam, conveying his panic.

Mary caught the exchange. “You are still planning on asking her to marry you tonight, right?”

Dean’s first thought went to Christa, back at the drive-in. He shook his head, trying to comprehend what was going on. “Uh, no, Mom. I’m sorry. Tell Miranda I’m so sorry, but I uh, I promised um,”

“He promised he’d go pick up a salvage today.” Sam finished. “We might not be back in time. Miranda’s going to be pissed, dude.” He gave Dean a pointed look and then looked at the clock. “We really need to get a move on.”

Dean nodded and Mary hugged him. “You really need to tell Miranda you won’t be making it, honey. But you also need to stop putting this off. You’ve been together for five years.”

“Okay, Mom,” Dean whispered, his throat thick with emotion as he embraced his very alive mother. “Let’s go Sammy.”

Sam also hugged Mary for several moments and she kissed his cheek, smiling. “I love my boys so much. It’s nice seeing you together. Take care, guys.”

* * *

Dean started having a slight panic attack while they drove. “Sam something is really wrong. What if we changed places with this world’s version of us? What if they’re in our world, helpless, and hunted down? This is not okay!” He ran his hands through his hair.

“We’ll figure it out, Dean. Let’s go see Bobby.”

“Bobby’s alive?”

“His junkyard is still in operation and when I called this morning, it sounded exactly like him.” Sam shrugged, turning on the northbound highway.

“Yeah, okay. Maybe Bobby can help us.”

A few hours later, Sam pulled into the salvage yard and drove slowly up to the house in the back.

“I hope he’s not packing,” Dean muttered and looked at Sam out of the corner of his eye.

Suddenly, the door swung open and a lady in an apron stepped out into the sun, shielding her eyes. Sam cut the engine off and stepped out, just as she was calling for Robert.

Dean slowly climbed out of the Mustang, his legs feeling like gelatin as a surly old man in a trucker cap and denim overalls round the house. “What is it, Karen? Who’s this? Get in the house, honey.” Bobby was still protective as ever as he climbed the porch and eyed the two very tall younger men standing in what amounted as his front yard.

“Uh, Bobby? Mr. Singer?” Sam stuttered and walked forward, a very disarming smile on his face. “We are uh, we’re Sam and Dean Winchester. I called you earlier this morning.”

“Oh. Were you the guy looking for an engine block? I ain’t got it, yet. Told you it wouldn’t be here til tomorrow at the earliest. Wait. Did you say Winchester?” Bobby looked both guys up and down, skeptical about their intentions.

“Yes, sir,” Dean spoke up, also forcing a friendly smile on his face. They all shook hands and looked at each other for several moments.

“Aw hell, come on in. Karen’s cooking a casserole for dinner. Why don’t you boys stay and eat?”

Sam and Dean looked at each other, silently communicating again, and then accepted his invitation.

The inside of the house was exactly as they remembered. Sam swallowed a lump in his throat as he looked around. He noticed Dean take a deep breath, probably feeling just as overwhelmed.

“Goodness. You Winchester boys sure have grown.” Karen said as she walked back into the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron. A sad smile crossed her face and she shook her head. “So sorry for your loss.”

“You knew… you knew our dad?” Sam asked as Karen motioned for them to sit down. She got a pitcher of lemonade from the fridge and started pouring them each a glass.

“Oh, not well. Mary and I knew each other as little girls. We don’t talk much, anymore. Not since John passed. She doesn’t really talk to Ellen much, anymore, either.” Karen sighed sadly went to the stove to stir a pot.

Yet another exchange of glances between the guys. “Ellen? You mean Ellen Harvelle?”

Karen nodded with her back still to the guys. “Do you guys know another Ellen that grew up with your mom?”

This was getting more and more convoluted as the minutes ticked by. Dean wasn’t sure how much more he could handle. His phone rang again and he excused himself and stepped outside. “Dean speaking.”

“Hey, you,” said a familiar voice.

“Christa?”

“So you remember me after all,” she teased. Dean could hear her smile through the phone and his stomach did a flip. “How’s it going?”

“Uh, things are…” he paused, the sudden urge to be completely honest with her consumed him. “Things are weird, kitten. I um, I’m in South Dakota with Sam. Visiting some family.”

“Is everything okay?” Christa asked with a voice full of concern.

“I think so? I honestly don’t know. It’s confusing and a long story.”

“I have time,” she said softly. “If you feel like sharing.”

“I do. But I don’t have time,” Dean said. He wiped his other hand down his face and swallowed hard. “So uh, when you gonna come visit?”

“Funny you should ask,” Christa replied and Dean could almost see her smirking on the other end. “There’s a car show in Kansas City in a couple days. One of the coordinators reached out to me and offered me some cash to model. You’re not far from there, right? Lawrence?”

“Yeah. A couple days, huh?” Dean asked, unable to help but smile. “That sounds nice. Hey, I’m short on time for the moment. Call me when you hit the road, okay, sweetheart?”

Christa chuckled, “One more thing, Dean, cupcake? I fucking hate the name ‘sweetheart.’”

Dean’s heart thudded in his chest and he nodded vigorously, despite her being unable to see it. “Of course you do. Talk to you soon, swee--, Christa.” She laughed again when he corrected himself and then the line went dead. He stared at his phone for several minutes before he slid it back into his pocket and went back inside.

Karen was dishing out the casserole and Dean’s stomach grumbled. He realized he never ate breakfast and Mary had given them sandwiches for lunch, but the stress seemed to have used all of that energy. He and Sam both ate second helpings and praised Karen for her cooking. Bobby watched them carefully, as if he suspected them to hold him at gunpoint.

After dinner, Sam cleaned the dishes and Dean went outside to call Miranda.

Bobby sat at the table, his eyes never leaving Sam. Sam finally turned around, dried his hands on a towel, and folded his arms across his chest.

“How you been, Bobby?”

Bobby’s gaze didn’t lighten, nor did his eyes. The crease in his forehead got deeper. “Why are you boys acting like you visit on the regular? We ain’t seen you in years. Not since John’s funeral. Now you’re comin’ round here like it’s any other Tuesday. You boys in trouble?”

Sam looked down briefly, wondering how much he should spill. He decided he’d work his way there. “Not exactly. Say, Bobby, were we ever close when I was little?”

“Close? I was practically your uncle. What’s wrong with you? Bump your head on something that made you even more of an idjit?”

Sam smiled at Bobby, happy to hear his surly voice calling him an ‘idjit’ again. Bobby regarded Sam closely, obviously uncomfortable. “Does Mary know you’re here?” He asked quietly.

Sam shook his head.

Bobby rolled his eyes. “Great, I’m really gonna get it. What are you boys up to?”

Sighing, Sam looked outside and saw Dean pacing while on the phone. His free hand was gesturing as he talked and he knew that his brother was arguing with the woman who was supposedly his girlfriend. Sam took a seat at the table, turning the chair backwards and folding his elbows across the back of it. “Bobby, I’m going to ask you some questions and they might seem crazy, but please bear with me.”

Bobby nodded slowly and took a long sip of his lemonade. Sam began asking Bobby vague questions about their past, how they knew their parents, how well they knew them, what his parents did for a living, if Bobby had ever experienced anything other-worldly or heard of monsters. Bobby’s face remained in a frown the entire conversation. “Boy, what are you getting at?” He finally demanded, banging his fist on the table.

At that moment, Dean came back inside, fuming. “I need a beer,” he growled.

Bobby’s eyes went to the older Winchester and he grimaced. “We don’t drink here, son.” Dean cussed and yanked out a chair and sat down hard. “Watch it.” Bobby barked.

“You boys alright in here?” Karen asked as she poked her head in.

“Yes, Karen. Just trying to instill some manners in these buffoons.” Bobby’s eyes never left the brothers. Karen ducked back out and Bobby lowered his voice, “You boys need to leave.”

“I have one more question, Bobby. I’m sorry. Please, just one more.”

“If it’s as crazy as your other ones, I don’t want to hear it!” He snapped.

“C’mon, Sammy, let’s go,” Dean said as he stood up. “We’re not getting any help from him.”

Sam studied Bobby another moment. “Do you have a library in this house?”

Bobby sighed, obviously still perturbed, but nodded. “I started collecting books right around the time John died.” He paused, looking from bright green eyes to hazel ones. “You boys remember how doctors said they couldn’t quite tell if it was cancer? His blood panels were coming back all screwy and one test said one thing and the next would say something completely different. I can’t tell you how many docs John saw. Idjits, all of ‘em.” Bobby rubbed his stubbly chin. “Anyway. I thought maybe I could find what was wrong with him. I never did, but I had a hunch it was bizarre.”

“Bizarre, how?” Dean asked, bracing himself on the back of the chair.

Bobby shrugged, suddenly looking very tired and resigned. “I never told anyone this, but I think he might have been possessed.”

Sam and Dean gave each other The Look. “Possessed? Like by a demon?”

“Something like that.”

“Can you show us your books?” Sam asked, trying to hide the excitement in his voice. If this world’s Bobby thought there might be such things as demons, maybe they could find an answer about how to get back to their own world.

Bobby got up and waved for them to follow him.

His library was stuffed with more books than either brother could remember there being. The room was a mess, but there was a surprising lack of dust on the books piled on the desk and the floor around it. “Are you still looking into it?” Sam asked quietly.

Bobby just nodded, “Perceptive.”

Dean cleared his throat and made sure Karen wasn’t hanging around. “Bobby. What if we told you demons are real? And so are vampires, ghosts, and angels?”

Bobby turned to look at Dean, his face blank as his eyes searched Dean’s face for any hint of a joke. “I’d say you’re flippin nuts, boy. Well, I would have twenty years ago. Now, I’m not so sure.” He flicked his eyes back over to Sam. “That why you were playing twenty questions with me earlier, son?”

Sam nodded, pressing his lips together. He looked down at the books open in front of him and gently turned a few pages. “Dean, come look at this.”


	3. That Was Yesterday

After crossing the room, Dean looked down and felt a knot in his stomach tighten. “Sam, this is,”

“Dad’s journal.”

“What now? John had a journal?” Bobby asked, confused.

“Bobby, I think you should sit down. We’ve got a lot to tell you and it’s not going to be easy to process.”

It was almost one in the morning when Sam and Dean finished telling Bobby the story of their lives back in their world. Bobby had pulled out a secret bottle of whiskey from a hidden panel in his desk, threatened their lives if they told Karen, and the guys had drunk liberally from it. They were all buzzed as a quiet hung over the room for the first time in a couple hours.

“So, I’m dead?” Bobby asked, carefully forming the words, rolling them in his mouth as if they were a food he didn’t enjoy.

The brothers nodded.

“And Karen? I killed her?”

“She was possessed, Bobby. You did what you could at the time.” Sam said, quietly.

Bobby looked just as lost as the Winchesters did. He sighed gruffly and stood up. “I think we all better get some sleep. We’ll finish this in the morning.” His eyes swept over the brothers as they stood up. “I assume you know where the bedroom is.” He felt a grin tug at his lips as the guys nodded. “Okay then. Go get some sleep.”

**DAY FOUR**

After a breakfast of homemade cinnamon rolls and bacon, the guys went out into the salvage yard. Bobby asked a few more questions and Sam and Dean answered to the best of their abilities, trying to make sure Bobby wasn’t going to go insane with the information.

“And you boys don’t know how you got here? You think you drove through some sort of portal? Or that an angel zapped you here?”

“Yeah, pretty much. And we need to find out, soon, because we think the other us, the guys that live in this world, may have traded places with us. Our world – and those Winchesters – might be in real danger.”

“I’d be happy to help in any way I can. You boys were like family to me and something about having you around just feels right.” Bobby shrugged. “Alright, you better get on the road to Ellen’s. Should only take a couple hours at most. Call me if you find anything else.”

The Winchesters nodded and took turns hugging Bobby Singer. The pain of his death ached inside both of them, but they held it together.

Bobby stood with his hands in his pockets as the boys drove off.

Almost exactly two hours later, Sam and Dean pulled up to the familiar wooden building. “Here we go again,” Dean commented as he walked up the steps to the door.

They entered cautiously. It was still early in the morning, so they were the only ones there. “We’re not open until 11,” announced a familiar voice from the back. The guys braced themselves as Ellen came out of the kitchen with a rack of bar glasses. “You boys deaf?” She asked, not politely. “We’re not open.” Ellen Harvelle sized them up, a questioning look on her face. “Are you the Winchester boys?”

They nodded, smiling at her. Ellen’s face broke into a smile and she hopped the bar and embraced the boys at the same time.

“Holy hell, you two have grown up!” Ellen said, stepping back from them. “What brings you here?”

“We uh, well, it’s a long story. But we just saw Bobby.” Sam paused, trying to find the right words.

“Did Bobby tell you he thinks John died of unnatural causes?” Dean blurted out.

Ellen’s eyes went wide and she put a hand against the base of her throat. “Well, yes, but… is he still on about that?”

“Yeah. And we’re inclined to believe him.” Dean replied.

Ellen’s face creased into a frown and she studied the brothers closely. “I’ll be right back, guys. Make yourselves comfortable.”

They took seats at the bar, silence hanging over them. Ellen reappeared moments later with a bottle of clear liquor and a smile on her face. “Shots? You boys were too young to drink at John’s funeral, so I figured why not now?”

Dean’s face broke into a smile, “That’s the Ellen I know and love,” he said as she poured them both shots. Sam noticed she didn’t pour one for herself.

“You’re not joining us?” He asked, picking up his shot.

“I have to work, boys. Maybe later.” She winked at them and set the bottle down. “If that settles nicely, I’ve got plenty more.”

The boys tossed the shots back and swallowed. Dean rolled his eyes and Sam laughed. “Holy water, Ellen? Seriously?”

Sam’s laughter stopped when he heard the familiar click of a hammer being pulled back. They both raised their hands over their heads, all mirth gone from their faces.

“Want me to shoot ‘em, Mom?”

“Jo,” Dean said with a hint of warning in his voice. “Jo, it’s just us.”

“Shut up.”

Sam made eye contact with Ellen, a question hovering between them. “Who are you?” She asked threateningly.

“We are Sam and Dean Winchester, sons of Mary Campbell and John Winchester.”

“Tell me something that isn’t common knowledge!” Ellen demanded, brandishing a silver knife.

Dean glanced to Sam, nodding slowly. “Ellen, Jo, we’re not from here. We’re from another version of this world. One where monsters exist and we hunt them down. In that world, both John and Mary are dead. Demons killed them. Bobby’s also dead, and… and so are you. The both of you. You died trying to kill Lucifer.” Cold metal pressed against the back of Dean’s head and he stiffened. “Jo, please get that gun away from me.”

“Cut them, Mom.” Jo said through a clenched jaw. “Do it.”

Ellen looked at the guys in front of her, processing what Dean just told her.

“Give me the knife, Ellen. We’ll do it ourselves.” Sam said softly.

Harvelle hesitated but handed him the knife.

“MOM! What are you doing!?” Jo shouted, panic in her voice.

Sam ran the blade shallowly across his forearm and then wiped it off and handed it to Dean, who did the same before handing Ellen back the knife.

“Satisfied?” Dean asked. “I’m not a fan of guns against my head.” Ellen nodded and almost faster than she could blink, Dean reached behind him and disarmed Jo without even turning around. He emptied the chamber and removed the clip, tossing the gun one way and the magazine another. “Pull that shit again, little girl, and I will hurt you.” He turned around and flashed Jo a tight smile. “Understood?”

Jo, wide-eyed, swallowed hard and nodded. “Yeah, sure. Sorry.”

“Dean, be nice,” Sam threatened.

“So why are you guys here? Why didn’t you just stay with Bobby?” Ellen asked, putting her bottle of holy water under the bar.

They explained everything to her and she listened. About five minutes to eleven, she told Jo to go lock the door – they would be closed for the day. Once the guys were done explaining, they questioned Ellen about how much she knew and how much she’d seen.

Ellen and Jo admitted they only knew what they’d heard from Bobby, who got information from his books. Over the years, as his convictions about how John Winchester truly died grew, Ellen and Jo became more and more cautious. Especially when people they hadn’t seen in over a decade turned up at their doorstep as if they were old friends. The conversation eased more into the daily goings-on of the brothers in their world, what they were up to and up against, and how things were going. The afternoon grew late and Ellen invited them to stay for dinner.

“We’d love to,” Sam said apologetically, “but we have to get back to Lawrence. My office thinks I have the flu and Mom thinks we went to pick up a junker.”

Jo was staring at Dean, studying him with her bright blue eyes. Dean shifted uncomfortably as memories of her from his own world settling in his mind. They stood up to leave and Ellen hugged them both, again. Sam then swept Jo up into a tight hug and a surprised laugh escaped her. “Good to see you, ladies,” he said as he set her down.

Jo stepped up to Dean, almost shyly, and Dean hugged her. She clung to his shoulders and shivered as his body pressed against hers. “You sure we never had a thing, Dean?” She whispered, trying to hide a teasing grin.

Dean smiled back but it was a sad smile. “Nah, sweetheart. We never did.”

“Well, who knows what the future holds, right?” Jo bit her lip and looked down at her boots.

Dean mussed her hair. “Right. See you later. Ellen.” He waved as they exited the Roadhouse.

The drive back to Lawrence was quiet. Dean studied the book that mirrored John’s old journal page-for-page until the light grew too dim to see and he let himself fall into a dreamless sleep.

**DAY FIVE**

They spent the night at their mom’s house; Dean was unwilling to face an angry girlfriend and Sam just wanted to spend more time with Mary. In the morning, Mary urged Dean to face the music and Sam had to agree with her. Feeling outnumbered, Dean gave in and Sam drove him back to the garage.

It was early and the bay doors were still closed, despite the fact he could hear some work going on inside. He took a deep breath and climbed the steps to his apartment, unsure of what he would find.

A woman, whom he recognized from the photo at his mom’s house as Miranda, sat on the couch drinking coffee and watching the morning news. She barely glanced at him when he walked in. He waited for her to say hello but she never did.

“Silent treatment, huh?” He asked. “Alright. Well if that’s how it’s gonna be, fine by me.” Dean shook his head and retreated into his bedroom, which smelled like lavender and perfume. He made a face, wondering how his counterpart could ever live with smelling like that all the time. Regardless, he undressed and took a long, hot shower, his mind replaying the past several days in his head. When he stepped out of the shower and wrapped himself in a towel, he wiped the steam off the mirror and almost fell over. His anti-possession tattoo was no longer there. “Shit,” he whispered as the panic really settled in his gut.

Miranda was in the bedroom by the time he was done showering and she silently watched him get dressed. Dean felt a bit awkward about having this strange woman watch him so closely, but he wasn’t about to explain to her why he felt that way. The last thing he’d told her was “shit’s weird right now,” and boy, he wasn’t kidding.

“Where were you?” She finally demanded with anger in her voice.

“I told you, I was in South Dakota with Sam.”

“You never hang out with your brother! Suddenly you’re taking road trips to Georgia and South Dakota together?”

Dean shrugged, picking up on the accusation in her voice.

“So who is she, Dean? Hm?” Miranda stood up now, her fists clenched at her sides. She looked like she was about to start crying.

“If you don’t believe me, fine,” he snapped at her. “But I was with Sam the entire time visiting family.”

“You don’t have family in South Dakota, Dean!” Miranda shouted at him. “So try again!” She grabbed his phone and held it up; it was unlocked on his texts. Dean set his jaw and took it from her, his eyes landing on the couple of texts Christa had sent him yesterday. “A car show in Kansas City? Meeting up with another woman? I’m not an idiot, Dean!”

“It’s just a friend.”

“Like I’m gonna believe that!” She spat at him. Dean threw his hands up and walked out of the room. His counterpart might be great at relationships but he wasn’t. He didn’t want to deal with this when there was so much already on his plate. A pang of guilt went through him when he realized the other Dean would eventually come home not knowing what happened to his girlfriend or why they broke up.

“Where are you going? You can’t just walk away from five years of a relationship,” she shouted as she stormed up behind him.

“Look. Miranda,” he said, his green eyes blazing. “I am not the man you think I am. I don’t know how else to put it that it would make sense but I am NOT the Dean Winchester you know. So let it go.”

The look of utter shock and hurt on her face pierced his heart like a silver-tipped arrow. Tears fell from her eyes as she stared at him in disbelief. “Dean,” she choked out.

“I’m going to work. Don’t wait up.” He left the apartment before he had to deal with a strange woman’s emotions and burst into the garage. His crew briefly looked up at him and then got right back to work as they saw the anger on his face. Dean went into the office and checked the clipboard to see what he had and which vehicle needed what. To take his mind off things he got to work under a 1970 Buick.

He worked until nightfall.

Sam strolled in to the garage, his hands in his pockets of his suit pants. Dean was easy to spot because he was the only one there. “Hey man,” he said and nudged Dean’s foot with his.

Dean rolled out from under the Buick, covered in grease and sweat. He smirked up at his little brother, “Nice monkey suit, Sammy.”

“Yeah, well, being a lawyer means you have to dress nicely. Anyway, Mom called. She said she’d been trying to reach you all day, something about a fight with Miranda?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, Mom’s insanely worried about you, man. Why don’t you get cleaned up and we’ll go see her?”

Dean thought for a moment, then nodded, “Yeah, sure. Let me close up.” Sam waited as Dean locked the bays and the office and shut everything off. “Hey, do you mind coming upstairs? If Miranda’s up there…”

Sam put his hands up in an acquiescent gesture. “Say no more.”

They climbed the apartment steps together and Dean opened the door as if he were on a hunt. The lights were off and it looked like no one was home. A sharp exhale came from Dean and Sam shut the door behind him. “Alright, I’m going to shower.”

“Wait, Dean? Is your tattoo gone? Cause mine is.”

His brother nodded, “I noticed it was gone this morning. Weird, huh?”

“Yeah, weird,” Sam agreed and shooed him off to the bathroom.

Sam drove them over to Mary’s and she came outside, hugging each son in turn. When she got to Dean, she looked him over, concern knitting her brow. “Dean, baby, are you alright? Miranda called me crying earlier.”

Dean sighed again, “Yeah, Mom. I’m fine. We had a fight. She thinks I’m cheating on her.” He stepped around her and went inside, leaving Sam and Mary on the front walkway.

“Is he okay, Sam?”

Sam forced a smile down at his mother. “He’s just fine, Mom. Let’s go inside.” He put an arm around her shoulder and escorted into the house.

* * *

“So, listen, Sammy. I’m going to Kansas City tomorrow. Gonna look at a few vintage cars,” he pointedly looked at his brother before shoveling food into his mouth, “wanna come with?”

“Ugh, I don’t know, man, I’ve already taken so much time off work recently.”

“Alright. Fine. I’ll be sure to let you know if there’s anything there of note. Maybe a hot little blonde number?”

Mary gave Dean an extremely quizzical look. “Blonde? Dean? A blonde car?”

Dean grinned and rolled his eyes, “C’mon, Mom. Like cars can’t be hot little blonde numbers. Sam knows what I’m talking about.”

The boys stared at each other for a moment and finally Sam said he’d try. Mary looked between the two of them, studying them closely. “What’s this all about, you two?” She asked quietly.

They looked at her in confusion. “What do you mean?” Sam replied.

“I mean you two, spending all this time together? Karen Singer called me last night. She said you guys had been up to see Bobby. And then Ellen Harvelle called this morning, telling me you guys went to see her, too. You told me you were going to look at a junker, Dean. So what is going on?”

“Why’d you stop talking to Karen, Mom?” Dean changed the subject.

“Excuse me?”

“She said you guys stopped talking after Dad died. I wanna know why.”

Mary hesitated and chewed on the inside of her lip for a moment. “It was because of Bobby,” she admitted. “He started talking about how John died of unnatural causes and became obsessed with finding out what ‘really’ happened. Karen had her hands full with trying to keep him sober. She had no room to shoulder my grief, too. So, we just drifted apart.” She shrugged, as if to say ‘what can you do?’

“And Ellen? What happened with her?”

Mary shrugged again. “Once Karen and I stopped talking, I just sort of let Ellen go, too, I guess.”

“Did she ever say anything to you about Bobby? Ellen, I mean. Did she talk to you about him?”

“Oh, I guess so. But we haven’t spoken in years, now.” A long pause hung over the three of them. “Sounds like she has her hands full with Jo.”

“Jo’s a feisty one,” Dean quickly agreed with his mouth full.

“Well, regardless of what’s going on with you two, I’m glad you’re spending time together again. It’s good to see my boys getting along,” Mary smiled, grabbing each one of their hands in hers. “I have an early morning, so I’m going to bed. Goodnight you two.” She stood up and kissed each son on the forehead before she went up to her bedroom.

**DAY SIX**

Dean went down to the garage that morning in decent spirits, having turned over John’s “journal” to Sam so he could look at it. He put on a pair of coveralls this time and set to work on starting a rebuild of a Plymouth. The car show didn’t start until noon, so he had some time to kill. It felt really good to work on cars again and helped him focus. At eleven he put one of his senior mechanics in charge and told the guys he’d be back soon.

A little over an hour later, Dean stepped off the bus and walked several blocks to the plaza where Christa said she’d be. Several cars were already there – none of them were a gray Impala. Dean headed into a coffee shop and sat down after ordering a plain black coffee and a giant muffin. His phone buzzed in his pocket alerting him to a text and Dean opened it. Christa sent him a picture of herself in a very low cut top with the text, “Hope you like what you see.” He grinned, thoroughly enjoying the fact he had Christa to himself in this world.

The coffee shop door swung open and Dean heard a familiar engine rumble. He looked out the window to see the gray Impala roll by with two women in the front seat.

Christa swung the Impala into a spot near the end of the middle row of cars. She shut the engine off and lifted her torso out of the window, perching on the edge, waving at Dean as he walked over. He had his hands shoved into his pockets and she couldn’t help but smile widely. Something about that struck a chord of déjà vu within her that felt like the tingle of touching a plasma globe, except it went through her entire body. It was gone almost as quickly, which sent a shiver down her spine.

“Hey, you.” Christa greeted him, unable to help but smile at Dean as his green eyes raked down her body.

“Hey yourself,” he replied as she pushed herself out of the window and into his arms. She held onto his shoulders as he held her in his arms for a moment before setting her down. Once her feet were on the pavement, Dean leaned down and kissed her, deeply. She reciprocated with her entire body, which drew a faint groan from Dean’s throat. His hands went to her waist and he pulled away before he broke a few laws. “God, you,” he breathed, “you’re incredibly sexy.”

Christa winked at him. “I know, Winchester. Hey, where’s Sam?”

“He had to work.” Dean replied, making sure he said it loud enough for Jess to hear, too. Then he looked at her as she climbed out of the car. “He says hi.”

Jess gave him a little half smile. “Alright. I hate to break it up,” she said as she shut the passenger door. “We’ve gotta go earn some cash.”

“You can’t just disappear for awhile?” Dean whispered in Christa’s ear.

“What, like fifteen minutes?” She teased back.

He didn’t take the bait. “Oh, I was thinking more like a couple hours.”

Christa exhaled sharply, goose bumps rising on her arms as she forced herself out of his grasp. She bit her lip, checked him out, and then blew him a kiss as she backed away. After a few steps, she took Jess’ hand and they went to go check-in with the coordinator.

“I hate to see you leave, but I love watching you go,” Dean muttered. Jess was in a cleavage-baring, backless halter top dress with a very full skirt that stopped at her knees. Her calves glistened in the sun, accentuated by the four-inch heels she wore. Christa was also in a halter top dress, the exact same pattern, but it was skin-tight down to her knees. A slit up the back ended somewhere above mid-thigh and lent her walk a little more wiggle.

A little later in the day, a sizable crowd gathered around the ladies as they did photo shoots with car enthusiasts who were willing to pay a good amount. Dean had kept his distance because Christa texted him earlier telling him what a goddamn distraction he was. He always kept her within his peripherals, though. Which is why he was concerned when he heard raised voices and what sounded like the beginnings of a scuffle.

“Get off me, you asshole!”

“You’re getting paid for this, right?”

“Ugh, no! Fuck off!”

Dean recognized Christa’s voice – he should, she’d yelled at him enough back in their world.

“Aw, come on, sweetheart! Just sit on my lap for a few pictures and look pretty.”

“Don’t call me that,” Christa spat and turned to storm off right as Dean pushed his way to the front of the gathering crowd. He hung back but made eye contact with Jess to let her know he would step in if they needed it. Jess waved him off, obviously hoping the situation would de-escalate.

The aggressor grabbed Christa’s wrist and Jess yelled this time, “Let her go, you ape!”

“You’re next, blondie,” he sneered as he wrapped his other hand around Christa’s waist. “I paid good money for these pictures, so just do what I want, okay?”

“That’s not how this works,” Christa hissed as he pulled her towards him.

The crowd around them was thick with tension and Dean started to step forward when Christa jabbed the man with her elbow, knocking the wind out of him. He gasped and let her go, then stumbled back. Jess stepped behind Christa, eyes wide with apprehension. The man stood back up and reached for Christa again, cursing in gasping breaths. She spun out of his way and grabbed his wrist, twisting it painfully behind his back in one swift motion. He yelped and sank to his knees as she pushed against the backs of his legs. Bending over him, now, Christa lowered her head until her lips were next to his ear. “Don’t. Fucking. Touch. Us again. Heard?” She twisted his arm more and he screamed in pain and nodded, eager to be out of her grasp. Christa let go of him and stepped back towards Jess, her heart pounding and adrenaline rushing through her veins. “Give this creep his money back,” she shouted and then spotted Dean. Jess and Christa stepped closer to him, just in case.

Jess wrapped her arms around Christa as the guy slinked back into the quickly-dispersing crowd. A single photographer snapped a few pictures of the women holding each other, but everyone else seemed to be busying themselves checking the settings on their cameras.

Dean closed the distance between him and the two women. He was very impressed with how Christa handled the situation. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she snapped and turned aside. Dean could see her hands trembling as Jess stepped aside after kissing Christa on the cheek.

“You did great, Christa. You handled that guy like a pro.” He let the pride he felt come through in his voice, not making any physical contact with her, yet.

She glanced up at him through her lashes, a mixture of emotions crossing her face all at once. “Yeah, I guess I did, huh?” Her voice was quiet, almost shocked. “If he touches me again, though,” she started.

“I will end him,” Dean finished. At that, Christa pulled him to her and she kissed his mouth, hard.

“I love it when a guy threatens a life for me,” she breathed as she pulled away from him. A small smirk played at her lips.

Dean smirked back, “Well, if it gets me more of that, I’ll be happy to threaten everyone’s lives here.” He absently smoothed part of her hair that was still out of place and then stepped back. “Now get back to work; dinner’s on you tonight, right?” He gave her his signature wink.

Christa laughed, rolling her eyes. “If dinner’s on me, then I guess dessert's on you,” she hinted and then turned away to resume posing next to the Pontiac.

He decided he’d stick a little closer to them, just in case someone else tried something funny.

The last photography session ended as soon as the sun dipped behind the strip mall behind them. Dean got a text from Miranda, which simply said, “My key is under your mat.” Dean once again felt a pang of guilt for being the reason a five-year relationship ended so abruptly. Maybe he could set things right before he and Sam went back to their reality; then again, why subject an alternate version of himself to more of the same? A small voice in the back of his head urged him to make things right, so this reality’s Dean wouldn’t come back to a shit storm. _If_ he came back. Before Dean could sort his thoughts, anger took over the guilt – it wasn’t his fault he ended up here. As much as hated the idea of leaving this Christa behind, he knew their reality needed them and finding a way back should be first priority.

Dusk settled over Kansas City and Christa and Jess finally were able to call it a day. He patiently waited outside as they changed their clothes inside the tent, emerging minutes later both in jeans and tee shirts with light jackets. “So when are you ladies planning to head back?” He asked, walking them to the Impala. Christa and Jess exchanged a glance and they both shrugged.

“Whenever. We figured we’d get a motel room out here tonight, maybe head back tomorrow sometime,” Jess said as Christa opened the trunk.

“That’s ridiculous. Lawrence is less than an hour away and I know Sam would love to see you.”

“It’s up to Chris. She’s the driver,” Jess smiled, her eyes full of hope as she waited for Christa to decide.

Christa took her time weighing her options, pretending it was a difficult choice. “Hmm. I suppose we could go to Lawrence?”

Dean put his hand around her waist and pulled her to him, “Is there anything I can do to convince you?”

Christa’s blue eyes sparkled as she gazed into his green ones. “Just make it worth my time, Winchester,” she whispered as she stepped back. “Everybody in! I promised this man dinner,” she announced, smiling widely.

The three of them piled into the Impala with Christa behind the wheel, Dean up front, and Jess in the back. Christa found a blues and bar-be-queue joint on the outskirts of the city and they stopped for dinner. Wanting to be a decent human being, Dean tried to pay for their check. Christa, however, was adamant she pay for his dinner and she eventually had to climb into his lap to snatch the check out of his hand, but he gave in. As compromise, Dean said he’d buy drinks later.

On the way into Lawrence, he called Sam and told him to meet him and the ladies at a local dive.

Upon arrival, they grabbed the last available booth and waved Sam over when he walked in.

“Late night at work, Sammy?” Dean asked, eyeing his brother’s fancy tailored suit.

“Yeah, just, you know, trying to catch up,” he grinned and slid in next to Jess.

They spent a couple hours talking, eventually migrating over to the pool tables. The women watched the guys play the first game and Christa called winner.

Sam won, but just barely. Grumbling, Dean slapped a twenty into his palm and retrieved his beer. Christa grabbed the cue from him as Sam broke the new game. After several poor attempts and a couple scratches, Dean finally offered to help.

“What took you so long?” Christa asked as he walked over to her.

“Hush and listen,” Dean replied. He positioned himself behind her as she leaned down for a shot. He moved her back hand farther down the stick, adjusted her fingers in front, then leaned into her and placed his hand over hers. “Now, this is a clear shot, so aim for the center of the ball,” he whispered into her ear. Christa felt Dean pull the cue back and then jab it forward, hitting the ball directly in the center. It knocked a stripe into the corner pocket and Christa smiled.

“Nicely done,” she said as she stood up and moved around the table for another shot.

Sam single-handedly beat her a few minutes later and called a break. Dean spent that time an as excuse to touch Christa, to bend her over the pool table, and push his hips into hers as he taught her how to make various shots. Christa knew Dean was enjoying himself, so she played along and pretended to be terrible, still, so he’d show her again with his body pressed against hers.

“You keep this up and I’ll have to do something about it,” Dean whispered in her ear just before gripping her hand and making a shot. Christa bit her lip and pushed back against his hips just a little bit more, which made him groan deep in his chest.


	4. I Have Waited So Long

Dean grabbed the key from under the mat at the top of the stairs and let everyone inside. They made themselves comfortable as he went to the fridge for beers. The four of them sat around and talked for a couple more hours; Dean was amazed at how relaxed Sam was around Jess, despite the fact he knew her in their other life. He also couldn’t help but notice that Christa and Sam were exchanging glances every so often. Dean couldn’t blame her – she was attached to him in the reality they came from and he assumed it was the pull of that closeness that somehow permeated space and time.

Sometime around eleven, Sam announced he needed to get home and Jess offered to walk him downstairs. Christa and Dean exchanged a knowing glance once they walked out the door.

“I don’t think she’s coming back,” Christa said in a sing-song voice before she took another gulp of beer.

“Oh yeah? So that just leaves us to entertain ourselves?” Dean leaned in, perched on the arm rest of the couch, putting on his most charming smile.

Christa looked up at him through her eyelashes, “I suppose. Didn’t you say something about dessert earlier?” She slowly closed the distance, her lips brushing against his. Then her phone buzzed. And buzzed again. And again..

Dean raised an eyebrow, glancing down at her phone on the table. “You gonna answer those?”

“Should I?” She kissed him, gently at first, feeling his soft lips move against hers. After a moment, she pulled back just a bit looking from his eyes back to his lips.

“Hm? Everything okay?” He placed a hand on her cheek, waiting for her to make the next move.

Christa closed her eyes and didn’t move away but she was silent for a long moment. No sooner were the words “I want you” past her lips then Dean claimed her mouth with his. His kiss was fiery, passionate, and yet gentle. She felt herself melt into him, swirling her tongue around his. He slid off the arm rest and on to the cushion beside her. His other hand slid from her hip to her waist and gently pulled her towards him. Without hesitating, she climbed on to his lap, straddling him as her hands caressed his chest and shoulders.

A brief warning bell went off in Dean’s head as Christa settled herself on his lap but he blithely ignored it. The hand on Christa’s cheek slid around the back of her neck and his fingers entwined themselves in her hair at the nape of her neck. He lightly brushed his other hand against her breast and when she moaned into his mouth, he cupped it and squeezed. Her back arched into him and her hips lowered more onto his, which made him groan in turn.

Christa pulled off her shirt and Dean followed suit. They kissed feverishly for several more minutes before Dean broke away, panting. “Bedroom?”

She nodded and climbed off his lap, sliding a hand into his as he led the way. Once inside, they removed each other’s jeans and then Christa climbed onto his bed. He joined her, kissing her mouth as he ran a hand down her body, over her breast and stomach to her thigh.

“Do you have protection?” Christa quietly asked between kisses. She felt Dean get up and listened as he checked the night stand drawer for condoms. There was a whole pile of them and he grabbed one, pushed off his boxers, and rolled it on. She removed her bra and underwear before he came back to her. He kissed her again, conveying his desire for her, and poised himself at her entrance. A wanton noise escaped her throat as he slowly pushed into her folds. She gasped as he buried himself in her then asked for more.

Dean was all too happy to oblige and pumped into her, slowly at first, letting her feel every inch of him. Christa’s hips rolled up to meet his and he steadily increased his pace as she moaned for more again. He felt her hand slide between them and she began rubbing herself, which drove him crazy. “Oh, God, Christa,” he panted, thrusting into her harder as he felt her muscles begin to tighten.

“Dean,” Christa moaned just before he captured her mouth with his again. He devoured her moans until she started trembling. It was becoming increasingly difficult to thrust into her but Dean persisted. A moment later, he felt her muscles spasm and clench even tighter as she came, crying out his name.

He felt goose bumps rise on his arms despite the heat between them and a cold chill went down his back but he was too close to stop. He pushed into her a few more times and then let go, groaning deeply as he came, too. Dean stayed put for a moment, catching his breath and coming down from his high, before he rolled to the side.

“Holy shit,” Christa panted.

 

**DAY SEVEN**

Sam dressed quietly, feeling oddly sad as Jess slept in his bed. He wanted nothing more than to let her sleep and come home on his lunch hour to make love to her all over again. But she and Christa had to head back home; back to their lives before they met alternate reality versions of the guys. Eventually, he decided he’d leave her a key so she could lock up behind her whenever she got up.

Before he left, he pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead and wrote her a note about a nearby coffee shop and that he was leaving her a key.

He felt guilty about sleeping with Jess when the Christa back in his own reality was probably worried sick about him. The guilt gnawed at him all day, making it impossible to focus on anything. Still, he longed for Jessica’s body against his again.

 

Christa threw her head back and moaned as Dean held her hips and bucked. Earlier, he woke her up with gentle kisses to the back of her neck which led to her riding him. Dean pressed his thumb against her clit and rubbed it lightly, urging her to come for him.

Moments later, Christa’s eyes closed as her world shattered around her and all she felt was pure bliss. As her climax ebbed, she watched the beautiful creature underneath her reach his own peak. He sat up, hands grabbing for her desperately as he came inside her and Christa held him to her, placing hot kisses along the side of his neck.

She climbed off him carefully and grinned as he flopped back onto the bed, spent. “Shower?”

“God, yes,” Dean groaned.

Christa slid off the bed, grabbed her phone, and went into the bathroom to start the water. She checked her messages – all from Jess – and texted her back that she’d pick her up at the coffee shop as soon as she was showered and dressed.

 

“I don’t want to leave,” Christa whined softly, standing in the doorway to his apartment at the top of the stairs. “But if I stay, I’ll be bed-ridden by day’s end.”

His green eyes crinkled with a smile before he winked and kissed her. She pulled herself against him, clinging to his shirt as she made sure there was absolutely no space between their torsos. Groaning softly, Dean pulled away. “You’re gonna make things very hard for me if you don’t stop.”

Christa smirked and bit her lip before she snuck in another quick kiss. “I’ll call you.”

“You better.” He watched her walk down the stairs, anxiety riddling his guts as the realization that she was going to be forever lost to him hit him square in the solar plexus. Once she was out the door and he heard the Impala engine turn over, he punched the wall and cursed this reality.

Around 11:30 that morning, Dean felt his phone ringing in his pocket. He slid out from under a Plymouth and pulled his work gloves off, hastily yanking his phone out of his coveralls to answer it.

“Dean Winchester.”

“Hey you,” Christa greeted him. “Jess and I are going to head back after lunch and I just dropped her off at Sam’s office, so… you got an hour?”

“I sure do,” he replied, already removing his coveralls.

He buzzed Christa in about ten minutes later and took her against the door, not even bothering to change out of his work clothes.

“God damn, Christa, you’re gonna be the death of me,” he said as they caught their breath, foreheads against each other.

“I sure hope not,” she panted. “You’re too good to lose.”

Dean gently pulled away and lowered her down to let her go clean up. He got dressed while she was in the bathroom and thought about what to say to her.

When she emerged, he finally decided on what to say. “Look, Christa, the last few days have been amazing. You’re a beautiful woman and any man would be lucky to have you.”

At this, her eyebrows lifted and she pursed her lips. “Great, so you’re breaking up with me before we even become anything? I think this is a new record for me.” She tried to push past him, but he caught her arm and moved to block the door.

“It’s not that! I’m not, I wouldn’t.” He sighed, trying to find a way around the words in his head. “Just… if you reach out to me and I don’t seem like the same person, please don’t take it personally. The truth is… the truth is it’s stupid complicated and I hate this.”

“Dean Winchester, are you married?”

“What? No!” He groaned in frustration, unsure of what exactly to say. “I’ll call you later, okay? To make sure you’re safe.”

“And maybe finally tell me what this weirdness is all about?”

“Yeah. I hope so.”

“Me, too, Dean. Because I know where you live,” she threatened, but there was a soft smile on her face. She kissed his lips lightly. “Whatever it is, I hope you figure it out. Because I like you, Dean.”

“I like you, too, Christa.” He was a little surprised and very uneasy with how much he liked her as he moved out of her way and opened the door for her, kissing her deeply again before he let her go. “I’ll call you this evening. I promise.”

 

Sam finished his work day at home after Christa picked up Jess. He filed his work in the company DropBox and then headed over to Hell’s Garage.

Dean was closing up the shop and tossed Sam the key to the apartment so he could let himself in. With the book copy of John’s old hunting journal, Sam sat down and got to work.

A few minutes later, Dean clomped up the stairs. He locked the door behind him and sank down onto the couch. “So you and Jess, huh? What’re you gonna tell Christa – I mean when we get back.”

Sam just gave his brother a nice dose of side-eye and kept reading. “You gonna help out with this or nap?”

Rolling his eyes, Dean stood up and got them both a beer before he sat down at the small table-for-two with Sam. He grabbed the book as Sam opened his personal laptop and began surfing the web.

Several minutes went by before Sam ran his hand through his hair, frustrated. “I can’t find a damn thing, Dean. This world? No such thing as monsters. The only vampires here are sparkly ones or ones with souls. Wendigo are a myth, at best. Witches are all cute little teenagers. As for angels and demons? Nada. Nothing except Biblical stories.”

Dean sighed and sat back. “So what now?”

Sam shrugged. “I have no idea. Maybe we go back to Bobby’s and see what else he’s got. I thought for sure I’d find something in Dad’s journal but I’ve got bumpkiss. I don’t even know what I’m looking for!”

As if on cue, there was a knock on Dean’s door. He exchanged a concerned glance with Sam and got up, “Who is it?” Nobody answered. Dean slowly moved towards the door, well aware that he was unarmed and unprepared to deal with anything aside from actual humans. Another knock as Dean pressed his back against the wall beside the door. “Who is it?” He said again, louder.

“I’m not here to hurt you,” said a muffled voice from the other side. Bewildered, Dean looked back at Sam and their silent exchange asked the exact same question. Cautiously, Dean unlocked the door and opened it just an inch, positioning himself so whoever it was couldn’t barge in.

What Dean saw in front of him shocked him to his core.

* * *

Sam looked from Jimmy Novak to Kevin Tran and back again. He tried to process their presence on the couch in front of him.

“So you guys have no idea why you’re here or who we are?” Dean asked for what seemed like the tenth time. The men shook their heads, looking absolutely exhausted at the questioning. The Winchesters had tested them both in every manner they knew how. Dean glanced to Sam, a hesitation on his lips before he asked, “Cas?”

Even more confused, Jimmy looked at Kevin, then to Sam, and finally back to Dean. “Cast? What cast?”

“No, nevermind,” Dean growled and began pacing again.

“How did you guys get here?” Sam asked, already knowing the answer because they’d already told them.

“I drove us,” Kevin said, trying not to let the frustration show in his voice too much.

“And you just so happened to pick up this complete stranger on the way. And you knew how to get to us and where to find us because you…”

“Because I heard the Angels talking. Well, an Angel.”

“An Angel. Great,” Dean chimed in. “So where is he, now?” That question was mostly directed at Sam, but he didn’t answer.

“Dean, we need to talk.” Sam stood up and went into the bedroom with Dean at his heels. Before shutting the door, Dean yelled at the other two men to stay put, or so help him God. “I get why this world would have doppelgangers of everyone we know, but there are no monsters and no angels or demons. So how is this Kevin Tran hearing Angel Radio?”

“I have no idea, but I’ve got a bad feeling about this, Sammy.”

Frustrated, Sam sat down on Dean’s bed and closed his eyes, trying to think. “If angels are able to cross over here then what’s stopping anything else from coming here? And we still don’t even know why we’re here. Jesus, Dean,” at that moment one of the men in the living room began to scream. The brothers dashed out and saw Jimmy’s body convulsing violently on the couch with Kevin cowering in the corner.

“What happened?!” Dean demanded.

“I don’t know! He just started seizing!” Sam crouched next to Kevin while Dean went to Jimmy and took the belt from his coat to put in his mouth. As soon as that was done, Kevin screamed in pain and covered his ears. The Winchesters followed suit after a moment as a familiar whine filled the apartment and was gone just as instantly.

Jimmy’s seizure lightened into a few twitches and his eyes rolled back into his head. Dean stood back as Sam slowly stood next to Kevin.

“Is he dead?” Kevin asked with a shaking voice. He was on the verge of tears, unsure why he was here or what had just happened.

Dean shook his head, waiting.

Thirty seconds later, Jimmy sat upright on the couch as if pulled by an invisible force, his eyes wide open and the belt hanging out of his mouth. With a confused look on his face, he pulled the fabric from his mouth and then looked from Dean to Sam to Kevin and back again.

“Cas?”

“Dean?”

“Sam.”

“Kevin?”

“Cas? Who’s Cas?” Kevin asked, panic in his voice.

“My name is Castiel, Kevin Tran. I’m an Angel of the Lord.”

“What?”

“I needed you to bring Jimmy here so I could speak with Sam and Dean. Thank you.” Castiel stood up, turning to face Dean. “You and Sam are in extreme danger. That’s why you’ve been brought to this place.”

“Take us back, Cas! Or so help me,” Dean threatened, gripping the coat’s lapels in his fists.

“I can’t.”

“What do you mean you can’t?” Sam spoke up. “Didn’t you bring us here?”

“No. I don’t have that kind of power,” Castiel looked at Sam, then down at Dean’s hands that were still fisted in his lapels. “Please let go of me, Dean.”

Dean let him go, raising his hands in the air and stepped away, sitting down hard in a chair at the table again as he squeezed the bridge of his nose. “Okay. Fine. We’re in grave danger. What’s new? What’s so bad this time that not even we can handle it?”

“So is everyone else you’ve come in contact with. You’re being hunted. I don’t know how they’re getting here because it took several Angels and a lot of power just to get me here and I can’t stay for long in this vessel – he is significantly weaker than on your side. Just know we are trying everything to get you back safely and in one piece.”

“What about our… us? From this world? Are they safe?”

Castiel directed his gaze to Sam again, briefly noting the utter bewilderment on Kevin’s face. “For now. We have them hidden away and I’ve warded their location already. They aren’t as easily tracked as you two. But you two need to stay put and stick together. Don’t go see Bobby or Ellen again. Don’t try to make contact with anyone else that you may think you know – especially Mary. It will put them in danger, too.”

Sam and Dean exchanged a glance and the only word Sam choked out was, “Jess.”

Kevin hugged his knees to his chest, trying not to burst into tears.

“Do not call her,” Castiel warned. “And Dean, you cannot call Christa. The more you interact with them, the less likely they will survive what’s coming.”

“I’m not going to lose Jess again,” Sam declared.

Castiel just gazed at him, no emotions on his face. “Consider that your final warning,” he stated and then looked at Kevin. “Kevin, it’s time to go.” He refused to stand up or unfurl from his position on the floor so Castiel went to him and touched his head before they both disappeared.

Sam pulled out his phone and started to dial Jess’ number when Dean’s phone rang. The women were supposed to be headed back to Atlanta, well on their way by now. Dean picked up the call, a sinking feeling sitting in his gut. “Christa?”

“Dean? Dean! Oh my God, it’s Jess. She’s,” Christa was crying and trying to get her breathing under control.

“Christa?! Where are you? We’re coming.”

“I’m outside St. Louis. East. East of St. Louis on 70. Please hurry!”

“Jess isn’t answering,” Sam said in a panic.

“It’s because she’s in trouble, Sammy. We gotta go. Christa, listen to me. Come back to Kansas. We’ll meet you halfway.”

* * *

Sam drove well over the speed limit towards St. Louis. Christa had texted Dean a half-way point somewhere near Booneville and when they approached it was almost dark outside. They went down another exit to turn around before they spotted Christa was waving her arms wildly to flag them down and Sam pulled off the highway. The car wasn’t even stopped when Dean jumped out of the Mustang and ran to Christa. Her face was streaked with mascara trails from crying, her blue eyes wide, the right one encircled by a faint bruise.

“Dean, I don’t know what happened! One minute she was talking and the next, her eyes went black and she tried to grab the steering wheel. I was able to pull off but then I couldn’t breathe. It was like something was choking me. And then she knocked me out. The last things I saw were those awful black eyes.”

“Okay, okay. Where is Jess, now?” Dean asked as Sam walked around the Impala, looking for her. “Sam she’s not there.”

Christa shook her head, “I don’t know. When I woke up, she was gone. I called you and drove here.”

Sam swallowed and sank to his knees on the grass. “I can’t lose her again, Dean.”

Dean sighed heavily and crouched beside his brother. He put a hand in the middle of Sam’s back to comfort him.

Christa had come around the side of the car and was standing about five feet away from them, hugging her arms to her chest. “What do you mean, ‘lose her again?’” She finally spoke up, her voice thick from crying.

Dean’s eyes closed and he clenched his jaw before he stood up and turned to Christa. Sam did the same, taking deep breaths to keep steady. His green eyes locked on deep blue ones, then swept down her face to her trembling lower lip.

“Well? Is someone going to answer me? What the fuck is going on!” Christa yelled as her brow furrowed in anger. She strode towards Dean and shoved his chest hard. “Answer me! Tell me what’s going on! What happened to Jess?!” Hot, angry tears spilled out of her eyes and followed the same tracks as the tears of fright from earlier. She balled her fists and tried to hit him but he caught her wrists and she gave in. Dean pulled her into his arms and let her cry against him.

“We need to get out of here, Sam. It feels like a trap. No way would they just leave.”

“We can’t just leave Jess, Dean!” Sam yelled, anger taking over despair. “What if she’s out there, alone and hurt?”

“It’s not Jess anymore, Sam! She’s a demon! I’m sorry we couldn’t save her again but we need to go. Now!” Dean growled. It was getting increasingly dark and the feeling of unease was growing in his gut. Christa pulled out of his grasp and walked around to the driver’s side of her car.

Sam finally gave in and tossed Dean the keys as he was in no shape or mood to drive. “Get us out of here.”

“Ride with Christa, Sam. Follow me.”

Dean climbed into the Mustang and waited until Christa and Sam were in the Impala before he pulled back on to the highway headed back towards Kansas.

Christa focused the rest of her energy on driving them back to Lawrence. Sam was silent and Christa was pretty sure he was even crying at one point when he sniffled. She finally spoke up after about thirty minutes of silence between them. “Sam what did you mean back there?” Christa glanced at him, noticing his jaw was set and he was wiping his face. “Sam, please talk to me. Please tell me what’s going on.”

Sam cleared his throat and another heavy pause hung between them before he finally answered her. “I was in a relationship with Jess several years ago. She was killed one weekend when I left with Dean to try to find our dad.”

“She was what?”

“A demon killed her. To get to me.”

“A demon. Like an evil thing in the movies that possesses children and makes them hurl pea soup?”

“Sort of. Not really. Much worse.”

Christa churned this information over in her mind. “And she died? Like dead-died?”

“Yeah,” Sam said, his voice hitching in his throat as the memories of finding Jess burning alive on the ceiling came roaring back.

“How is that even possible?!” Christa exclaimed. “None of this makes any sense! God dammit!” She hit the steering wheel with her hand to punctuate.

Sam didn’t answer, unsure if he even should. It was already almost guaranteed Christa wouldn’t survive until they got zapped back to their own world. Another twenty minutes passed in silence. Christa numbly followed the taillights of the Mustang ahead of her, tears occasionally falling from her eyes.

“Dean and I, we’re not from here,” Sam said quietly. “We’re from another world, or a parallel universe, or alternate reality; whatever you wanna call it. Something brought us here and something else is trying to follow. Our counterparts that belong in this world switched places with us, somehow. Chris, your life is in danger.”

Christa sat quietly, processing this new information. She thought about what Dean had said earlier – about how if he didn’t seem like the same person or didn’t know her. With Sam’s explanation, it made sense. But then again Sam’s explanation didn’t really make sense, so she was just as confused as she was before. She could feel Sam’s eyes on her and she glanced over at him, giving him a concerned look.

“I know I look like hell, Sam.”

“You’re just as beautiful, Chris.”

“You keep calling me Chris. Nobody calls me Chris except my mom.”

“I do. Back in our world, there’s a Christa Edelwood. She looks just like you and I’m…” Sam trailed off, unsure why he was telling her all of this. Maybe it was because he was resigned to the fact he and Dean were going to get her killed and none of it would matter, anyway.

“You’re what?” Christa’s voice was quiet, now. The look of concern on her face was replaced by one of apprehension, as if she knew what was coming.

“We’re together. You and I. Her and I.”

Christa’s eyes widened and she covered her mouth with one hand. “Like, together-together?”

Sam nodded slowly. “We, I mean, she and I have known each other for just over two decades. Her mom uh, her mom used to work with our dad. We’d often get babysat by Dean if they had to work late.”

Christa burst into befuddled laughter, fresh tears staining her cheeks. “You’ve got to be fucking joking. This is all an elaborate prank, right? Jess is on it. This is so fucking ridiculous. Demons. Ha! Next you’ll be telling me angels exist. Or unicorns. Or leprechauns.” Another heavy silence told her everything she needed to know. Christa felt her anxiety overwhelm her and she pressed her foot down onto the gas pedal, flying by Dean at 80 miles per hour. They were almost an hour into the drive back to Lawrence and she couldn’t take it anymore. An exit for Bates City, Missouri appeared and she cut back over, gunning for the exit.

“Chris, slow down. You’re gonna get us killed,” Sam said, putting his hands on the dash in front of him.

“No, I won’t.” Her reply was matter-of-fact and she easily slowed down on the exit ramp just enough to not flip the car as she took the right turn at the top. She pulled into the first gas station, tires squealing as she parked the Impala. Sam still had a white-knuckle grip on the dash.

“Jesus Christ! What are you thinking?!” He yelled after a moment. The anger of losing Jess, the frustration of being in a strange world, the guilt of not being able to talk to his Christa, his best friend, all weighed heavily and came exploding out of him.

The Mustang peeled into the gas station and Sam could already sense Dean fuming behind the wheel. He slammed into the spot next to them and stormed out of the car, heading towards the driver’s side of the Impala.

“Out! Now!” He commanded.

Christa sat behind the wheel, staring blankly ahead. She ignored him when he tapped on her window and when he yelled at her again. She ignored it as Sam got out of the passenger seat and slammed his door. She ignored it when her phone started ringing and she ignored the static of the radio. Dean finally tapped on her window again and her blue eyes slowly moved to look at him.

“Open. The. Door. Now.” He fumed.

Christa unbuckled her belt and pushed the door open, her entire body absolutely numb from the overload of emotions. Dean had left just enough room for her to get out of the car when he pulled in beside her. She swung the door shut with one hand and wiped her face with the other, her eyes focusing on the ground at her feet.

Dean noticed her entire body seemed weighted down and wondered just what Sam said to her or what had made her fly off the exit so recklessly. She looked broken, unwilling, and unable. But he knew better; if she was anything like the Christa he grew up with, she had fight in her, yet.

“Hey,” he said softly after assessing her state of being. “What happened? Is everything okay?”

She sniffled and nodded, then shook her head and shrugged. “I don’t know, Dean, why don’t you tell me? How would the other me react to this? How would the other me process all of this bullshit?”

Dean ran a hand down his face as he let out a deep breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding since she first mentioned her counterpart in his world. “Christa,”

“Don’t fucking apologize, Dean. It’s a little late for that, right? Jess is possessed by a fucking demon and this is, apparently, not news to either you or Sam that they even exist at all.” She took a shaky breath to steel herself against his gaze and then lifted her chin for her eyes to meet his. “And you’re a fucking asshole for not telling me about me – her – and Sam. How has he felt this entire time, watching you paw at me and me fawn all over you? It can’t feel fucking good.”

Dean swallowed. Apparently Sam told her a lot while they were in the car. He didn’t blame her for needing to pull over but she put both their lives at risk for a temper tantrum. Her blue eyes were boring into his and he wanted to look away, to cower, to admit he was a selfish ass if only it would make things better for her or bring Jess back. He shrugged a shoulder while he gazed at her a few more seconds and then looked away. “He had Jess, here. I didn’t think,” he began.

“Yeah, you didn’t fucking think. Asshole.” Christa spun away from him and marched inside the convenience store. Dean stared after her, unsure if he could ever fix this or even if he should bother trying. Castiel had already warned them to stay away and yet here he was.

Christa went straight to the bathroom and wiped her face. She admired the mascara tracks at first, thinking she kind of looked like an early nineties Courtney Love, but wiped them off to look less crazy. Sam was standing in front of one of the beverage coolers along the back wall when she came out of the bathroom. She licked her dry lips and quietly approached him, waiting for him to acknowledge her presence.

After a moment, she saw him look at her out of the corner of his eye. His eyes were full of sadness and regret and hopelessness. “You really do look exactly like her,” he said quietly, breaking the silence between them.

“I’m sorry, Sam. I had no idea.”

“I know you didn’t, Chris. I’m not mad at you.”

A small smile tugged at her lips. “Is that why you were so bashful back at the car show in Georgia?”

He made a sound that resembled a “heh” and then he managed a small smile back at her. “Maybe.”

Her reply was a non-committal hum accompanied by an eyebrow lift and a soft nudge. Christa reached forward and opened the cooler in front of her and pulled out a 40. It was Sam’s turn to raise his eyebrows. “What? I’m not fucking driving any more tonight. We can get to where ever we need to go tomorrow. You okay with that?”

Sam thought of Jess; he knew he couldn’t save her tonight because he was unarmed, unprepared, and emotionally exhausted. Two of the three he could work with most days but the hat-trick talked him down from a hunt. “Yeah, that sounds good.” He reached into the cooler and also grabbed a 40, thought better of it and grabbed another one for Dean. “Let’s find someplace to crash.”

“I think I saw a motel on the other side of the highway,” Christa commented as she went to the register. She plucked a few bags of snacks from the shelves on her way. Sam went to the aisle with the salt and scooped every canister and shaker into his arms. If they were calling a time-out, it was best to be prepared. He also grabbed a giant marker just in case.

Dean watched as Christa and Sam walked out of the convenience store armed with three bags, each. He gave them a puzzled look and opened the Mustang’s driver side door. “We good? You guys buy out the whole damn store?”

“Just the essentials,” Christa said around a red licorice twist hanging out of her mouth. “We’re stopping for the night.”

“We are?” Dean’s eyebrows raised and he looked from Christa to Sam.

Sam met his brother’s gaze and shrugged. “Christa said she’s tired of driving and I sure as hell don’t feel up to it. Why not stop for a bit? It’s not like we can do anything, anyway. No weapons, no way to kill demons, no sense in running.” He set his bags on the floor in the back of the Impala on the driver’s side.

Christa was watching Sam intently, as if sizing him up. As Sam stood back up, he snatched the other end of the twist out of Christa’s mouth with his own and Christa burst into laughter. Dean looked away and cleared his throat as if to dispel his discomfort. “You lead the way, then, sweetheart.” He was met with a glare from her and all he could do was smirk at how quickly she went from mirth to stab-mode. They piled into the cars and Christa backed out, taking it much easier as she pulled onto the road and drove back over the interstate.


	5. With Heaven on Our Side

The motel room was cramped, more so with a cot placed between the beds. Sam immediately poured salt along the windows and door and explained to Christa that it helped keep demons out when she shot him a questioning look. She had wasted no time in opening her 40 and handed one to Dean when he gave her a look that questioned her sanity.

“Live a little,” she said as she pulled another red twist from a bag and began chewing.

Dean grunted at her and opened the 40 to take a long gulp. Sam set out the rest of the salt containers within reach and wiped his hands on his pants. Christa was at the ready with his 40 and he thanked her for it.

Not much was said until they were all about halfway done with their drinks. Christa plugged in her phone and was sitting cross-legged on the cot, scrolling through her social media.

“Don’t post anything,” Sam suddenly said when he looked down and noticed what she was doing.

Christa looked up at him with a question in her eyes and a red licorice twist in her mouth. “Why?”

“Because you’re a target. Anything you post will be geo-tagged and make you easier to find. And we’re not equipped to fight off a hoard of demons at the moment.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly as she regarded him and then she closed her apps and turned off the “find my phone” feature before she turned her phone completely off. “You know,” she said, taking the licorice out of her mouth and holding it like a limp cigarette. “I can see why I’m, or rather she, is with you over there. In your world-slash-reality-slash-universe. You’re a total stud.” She winked at Sam as his face turned a mild shade of red and he hid a grin as he took a swig of beer.

Dean watched this exchange, wondering what exactly was going on. He felt a slight pang of envy in his chest at this sudden closeness Christa and Sam exhibited after only an hour of truths in the car together. He wondered what she would have done had he told her the truth earlier that day.

The three of them acquired a nice buzz from their beverages playing ‘Never Have I Ever,’ which Christa easily made them drink the fastest; then they passed the time throwing snacks at each other, having a very mild pillow fight that Sam won due to his size alone, and finally resigned to ordering a movie off the motel’s cable network. Dean rolled his eyes when Sam and Christa finally agreed on something – it wasn’t really so much of a chick-flick as it was a nerdy chick-flick. Christa had stuck her tongue out at Dean when he put up a fuss and tossed a few more pieces of popcorn at him. He had to admit that it was nice seeing her more relaxed, even if it was just on the outside.

It was late when the movie ended – well after midnight. She was still on edge, expecting the door to be blown in or hacked down as the demons came after them, so sleep didn’t come easy for Christa. She was terrified of what could happen while Sam and Dean slept. After lying on the cot awake for what seemed like an hour, Christa got up and decided to take a hot shower to relax. When she got up, she listened to the slow, steady breathing of the brothers as they slept and it was mildly reassuring.

She took her time in the shower, stretching her neck muscles and rubbing her shoulders to relieve the tension in them while the hot water helped loosen knots. She stayed in the shower until the water started going cold. When she got out, Dean was standing just inside the door with his head tilted down. She wrapped herself in a towel and wrung her hair out, figuring he had to use the toilet. “I’ll be out in a sec,” she said quietly.

Dean raised his head at the sound of her voice and he stared into her eyes for a moment before letting his gaze sweep down her body and back up. “Are you gonna let me talk to you tonight,” he asked in a low, gruff voice.

Christa raised an eyebrow at him as if to say he had her attention. She wiped the steam off the mirror and started carefully combing the knots out of her hair and Dean watched her. He thought of the Christa he knew and how she had picked Sam after so many years. It stung a little – it definitely hurt his ego a bit – but Dean was happy for Sam and Christa. They complemented each other well in their world. He didn’t mean to ‘steal’ this one from Sam, it just sort of worked out that way.

He cleared his throat. “Christa, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you what was going on. I didn’t think you’d believe me and I had no idea we had put you and Jess in danger until it was too late.”

She shrugged in response, braiding her still-wet hair. “I wouldn’t have believed you, Dean. It sounds fucking crazy, you know that, right?”

Dean nodded, finally prying his eyes off her despite knowing exactly what was under that towel.

Christa sighed and leaned against the bathroom sink after finishing her hair. “Apology accepted, Winchester.” She waited until he met her gaze and noticed his sly smirk as if she’d made a joke. “What are you grinning at?”

“Nothing,” he said immediately. Then he shook his head and grinned wider, “Actually, you – um, she – calls me that.”

It was Christa’s turn to smirk. “Yeah? What’s your relationship like? Sam said we – you’ve – known each other since you were kids. Do we get along?”

Dean shrugged. “We do, now. We didn’t used to.” His eyes traveled the length of her body again. “But we certainly do, now.”

“Have you ever…?”

“Hooked up? Yeah.”

Christa’s eyebrows lifted showing her intrigue – other her was either very adventurous or extremely unabashed. Then she noticed the look on his face. “Dean Winchester you are not looking at me like the brother of the man I love in another reality should look at me.”

“You’re not her,” he replied and stepped in front of her, leaving a gap between them in case she wanted to leave.

“I know,” Christa whispered, “because I chose you, instead. I won’t lie and say I don’t feel anything towards Sam – I do, even though I’m not totally sure what it is – but I made my choice.”

“It could get you killed.”

“No better way to go,” Christa said with a coy smirk. Her eyes flicked down to his lips and then back up to his eyes. Dean didn’t move a muscle. “Do I have to spell it out for you, Dean? Kiss me.”

He did. His lips met hers and she grabbed the shoulders of his tee shirt with her fists, pulling him to her. Dean’s hands went to her waist and he closed the distance between their bodies. His tongue pushed into her mouth and she met it with a small moan of want. Christa’s hands went to work removing his belt and unbuttoning his jeans. Dean groaned softly when her hand slid into his boxers and found him already starting to get hard.

The towel fell away from her with a small motion. Dean’s hands roamed over her breasts, down her stomach, around to her back and up to her shoulders before starting the circuit again. On his second pass, he paused at her nipples and gently tweaked them, which pulled a gasp from Christa as she pulled away from his mouth. “Fuck me, Dean.”

If he wasn’t completely hard by the time she whispered those three words to him, he would have instantly gotten there. He slid a hand between her legs and slid a finger into her folds, finding them slick. He listened to her breathing get just a little heavier as he slid a finger into her, then a second. She whimpered for more and he held a finger to his lips to hush her. Christa was leaning back against the sink, now, both hands clutching at the counter’s edge as he slowly moved his finger in and out of her.

“Please, Dean,” she gasped, unable to handle the agonizingly slow strokes he was administering.

“I don’t have anything with me.”

“I don’t fucking care; I need you.”

He slowly removed his hand and turned her away from him. Christa heard his pants drop and watched in the streaky mirror as he pulled his tee shirt up just enough to expose the V-shape at his hips. Her eyes closed and she exhaled sharply as he pushed his length into her. One hand went to her hip and the other went to her braid, grasping it tightly. She bit her lip and swallowed her moans as he pumped into her while slowly building his pace.

All of her anxiety, fear, and anger clawed to get out of her. “I said fuck me, Winchester,” she snapped in a whisper as her eyes opened and they met his in the mirror. Dean growled softly, tugged her braid in response and moved his hand from her hip down to her warm center. His fingers expertly found her clit and began working on it as he thrust harder and faster into her. He watched her in the mirror, how her breasts bounced with each slam into her and the look on her face as she struggled to stay quiet despite her building pleasure.

“Come for me, Christa,” Dean whispered as he leaned forward and put his lips next to her ear. He let go of her braid and grabbed her breast, instead. She reached behind him and he felt her nails dig into his hips as she pushed back against him. Her eyes shut tightly and he could tell she was fighting her climax. His fingers between her legs sped up and he rammed into her even harder, grunting quietly with the effort.

Christa’s head rolled forward and she slammed her hands back onto the counter, gripping the edge of the sink as she came hard. Her entire body shook as she gasped, riding the waves that broke through her entire body. She went up on the balls of her feet and then released the breath she was holding in one hard gasp.

Dean felt her clench tighter and he pushed into her with even more effort, holding her tightly against him while she came. He didn’t stop rubbing her, which sent her into another orgasm and he clapped his other hand over her mouth as she failed to swallow a scream completely. The sight and feeling of her succumbing to pleasure yet again sent him over the edge and he pulled out, pressing his length against her ass as he came. He rested his forehead on her upper back and panted as his hands gripped her waist tightly.

“Fuck,” Christa panted, trying to catch her breath as she felt his warm seed spill on her lower back.

“You think you can get some sleep, now?” Dean asked, still catching his breath.

Christa nodded slowly; the explosion of pleasure was still ebbing through her in small waves, making her want to curl her toes as she settled down flat-footed again. She smiled as Dean wiped off her back and butt because his touch was so much gentler than how he’d just had her. He seemed like the enigma that she may never figure out and that made her want him more. It wasn’t that he was untouchable, but that he seemed to be unable to process some emotions and then had no issue whatsoever performing tiny actions that made him completely see-through.

He was already buttoning his jeans when Christa came out of her reverie and turned back around so her back was to the mirror. She watched his eyes as they studied her naked body and felt like if she could stop time, she’d want to stop it just then. The slight darkening of his usually bright green eyes due to lust was evident; his full lips were barely parted; the strength displayed in his arms without him even trying; the shadow of stubble on his chin and jaw perfectly accentuating his strong bone structure. She thought he was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.

Dean noticed her staring at him, especially when she involuntarily let out a small moan. His eyes filled with the smirk that turned his lips up and he closed the distance between them again. “Like what you see?” He tucked a strand of hair that had come loose behind her ear.

Christa bit her lip and smiled back at him, feeling her heart pound in her chest. “Why wouldn’t I? God must have taken his time with you boys.”

That comment made Dean chuckle quietly and shake his head. “You have no idea, sweetheart.” He rolled his eyes as hers narrowed at him in annoyance. Before she had a chance to tell him, yet again, that she hated that name, he kissed her mouth deeply.

She let him kiss her, drowning in the sensation of his delicious mouth on hers and his body pressed against her as if to let her know she was his. Christa knew, in the back of her mind, that she belonged to no man but she might make an exception for Dean Winchester.

Dean pulled away from her and then planted a kiss on her forehead before he stepped out of the bathroom and went back to bed.

Christa stood in the bathroom for a few more seconds touching her lips with her fingertips, as if to seal in his kiss. She had a gut feeling that time was running out.

She only put on a bra and a pair of clean underwear in their dark room before she sat back on her cot and crossed her legs. She honestly wasn’t sure if she’d be able to sleep despite the fact she told Dean otherwise. He must have been awake because she heard him shift in the bed and then he whispered for her to get in with him.

Hesitantly, Christa climbed into the narrow bed and pulled the covers over her. Dean had discarded his jeans after leaving the bathroom. He was warm and while the room wasn’t necessarily cold, Christa shivered as he pulled her against him. Her entire body felt like it might vibrate her into pieces. “Are you cold?” Dean whispered. Christa didn’t know how to explain to him that her anxiety was going absolutely haywire, causing her to shake the way she was, so she just nodded. He sat up behind her and she heard the rustle of fabric before he held out his tee shirt to her. She sat up and pulled the warm shirt over her head and pulled her braid out of the neck hole. They lay back down together and he curled around her, pressing his chest into her back and draping an arm around her. “I’ve got you, Christa.”

The trembling subsided at that reassurance and she closed her eyes, willing herself to try to sleep.

 

**DAY EIGHT**

The smell of coffee permeated her sleep and she slowly opened one eye at a time. Dean was still asleep next to her, but he was on his stomach and facing the other way.

“Morning,” Sam said quietly. “I got coffee and some breakfast.”

Christa could tell he was forcing himself to sound more cheerful than he was feeling but she smiled at him and nodded. Her eyes flicked to Dean’s back again and as if he could read her mind, Sam said, “I wouldn’t do that, if I were you. He’s an angry sleeper.” Christa shook her head, still smiling, and sat up to swing her feet out of bed. Sam had folded up the cot when he woke up and found Christa tucked against Dean fast asleep, lightly snoring. His guilt was mixed with envy and sadness at the sight of them.

Christa didn’t bother putting on pants; Dean’s shirt wasn’t insanely big on her, but it covered most of her. She grabbed a coffee from Sam and poured two and a half creams into it, just the way she liked it.

“Muffin?” Sam asked, forcing a light-hearted tone.

Christa nodded and he handed her the bag. She pulled out a giant blueberry one and bit into it, crumbs flying everywhere. Sam sat on the foot of his bed and sipped his coffee while Christa leaned against the small desk and devoured her muffin.

Dean finally stirred and before he sat up he whined for coffee. Christa rolled her eyes and took him the last one, unadulterated by any cream or sugar. He opened one eye to look at her as she sat on the edge of the bed next to him. “Here you are, sunshine,” she smirked.

Dean’s only open eye narrowed slightly and he sat up on his elbow before he took the coffee from her hand. “Well if someone hadn’t kept me up all night,” he drawled.

Christa’s cheeks turned pink and she smacked his arm. “I did no such thing!”

“Uh huh,” Dean replied after sipping his coffee. He gave her a wink and a smirk and Christa got up and went into the bathroom.

* * *

“Sam, you ride with Christa,” Dean started saying as they gathered their belongings.

“Actually, I thought I’d drive my car and you could ride with her.”

Christa’s eyes went from one brother to the other and she shrugged and said, “I don’t care who rides with whom, but we need to go.”

Sam and Dean made sure the coast was clear and they hurried to their vehicles, tossing bags into seats instead of trunks. Two minutes later, they were back on the highway headed west, Sam leading the way. Christa had her windows down, blasting mostly metal music through an iPod. It was heavy, fast, and brutal and it grated on Dean’s nerves.

“Can we just listen to some Metallica or something?” He finally yelled over the noise.

“Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole!” Christa yelled back.

They made it Lawrence in just over an hour and pulled up to Dean’s garage. The guys inside were hard at work as the brothers and Christa ascended the stairs to the apartment. Dean went in, first, checked it out, and waved them in.

“I don’t think we should stay long, Dean. We need supplies and we need a place to hide.”

“Think the bunker exists?”

“I don’t know, man. Why would it? There wasn’t anything here to set the creation of the Men of Letters in motion.”

“Worth checking out, though. If anything, it’ll get us out of here and buy us some time.”

Sam shrugged and gathered his laptop and the book that he’d left over night. “Guess we better get a move on, then.”

Christa leaned against the door, watching the brothers talk and move. Dean disappeared into his bedroom and came out in a change of clothes with a backpack. He put his hand on Christa’s lower back as they left his apartment in this world for what could very well be the last time. Sam insisted they just take the Impala instead of two cars.

Sam used his credit card to buy spray paint, all the salt on the shelves, and jugs upon jugs of water at a local market. Christa stared at him, wide-eyed as he slid into the back seat of the car. “Closest Catholic church is about three miles away. Let’s go.”

Christa didn’t ask questions; she put the car in gear and followed Sam’s directions.

The three of them went into the church, each one carrying a jug of water. It took some time, but Father McDormand finally appeared and greeted them, his eyes sweeping over the two brothers and then Christa.

“What can I do for you, my children? And I don’t perform gay marriages, so before you ask, please just know.”

Christa burst out laughing at the looks on Sam and Dean’s faces. “Um, actually, Father, we’re here to ask you to bless this water,” Sam explained.

The Father’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. He didn’t speak as he considered the request but then shrugged. “Why do you need this much holy water, my son?”

“It’s hard to explain, Father, but we’re in a hurry. Can you please help us?” Dean interrupted.

The Father looked at them warily, studying each person in turn. Sam swore he was about to refuse them when the soft beat of wings startled them. The Father’s eyes got wide and Dean swore he was going to have a heart attack and die on the spot. Sam whipped around, following the Father’s line of sight and saw Castiel standing behind them. Christa also turned and froze as it felt like someone drove an ice spike into her spine. A flash of light revealed great, shadowy wings behind Castiel. The Father began to fall to his knees and Dean rushed to catch him while cursing. “For fuck’s sake, Cas! You’re going to kill him!”

“It is not his time. Forgive me, Father. My name is Castiel, and I’m an Angel of the Lord.”

The Father’s eyes went wide as Dean bore his weight to help him stay standing. His mouth moved but no intelligible words came out. Finally, he managed a “Who? What?”

Castiel slowly approached, glaring at Christa as he did. Dean saw the look of “I warned you” all over his face before he turned his attentions back to the Father. “Father McDormand, you are a pious man and confess your sins regularly. I’m here to help these men.”

“And Christa,” Sam piped up.

“Not her,” Castiel said sharply.

Sam looked over at Christa and saw her face slacken, confusion and hurt written all over it. He stepped closer to her and she leaned into him. Sam put an arm around her trying to comfort her a little but mostly out of protective instinct.

“Father, please do as these men ask and I will protect you. No harm will come to you or this hallowed ground.” Castiel said. His eyes flashed and the Father nodded vigorously.

“Of course, of course,” the Father said and got to work. His hands were shaking and he had a hard time focusing but he blessed the water in the jugs as quickly as he could.

“By the way, Sam. Dean. You don’t need to get the tattoo again. It’s still there, it’s just… not visible to your eyes in this world. It would still behoove you to get to a safe place. And leave Christa or she will surely die.” Castiel disappeared after sharing that information.

The three of them left the church with their newly anointed jugs of water after thanking the Father and headed to the closest tattoo shop.

“What the fuck are we doing, here? I thought you said we were hiding!” Christa said as Sam and Dean stepped out of the car. “That angel is an asshole, by the way. What was that about protecting you guys but not me?” She slammed the door shut and followed them inside the shop.

Sam went up to the counter and began drawing some kind of pentagram design surrounded by what looked like flames. Dean gently tugged her away and lowered his voice. “We won’t let anything happen to you. This tattoo is what we have that keeps demons from being able to possess us. It’s the best protection we can give you until we get somewhere safe.” He noticed her eyes were wide and betraying her utter confusion even as she nodded in understanding. “So where do you want it?” Dean couldn’t help but grin at the possibility of her picking some place naughty.

“Where do you guys have them?” Dean pointed to his left pectoral, a few inches below his shoulder. Christa did her signature eyebrow lift and shrugged. If she survived this and went back to modeling, she’d want it to blend in with the rest of any other tattoos she added, so she decided to have it done on her left shoulder so it wrapped around the curve. She noticed Dean pouted a little bit as she told the artist where to put the design and stuck her tongue out at him.

* * *

Christa walked out of the tattoo shop, her shoulder sore and aching. “Fuck, man. You’re driving, Dean.”

His eyes went wide with excitement as she tossed him the keys. He slid into the driver’s seat, a wide grin on his face and Christa watched him caress the steering wheel, dash, and gear shift. “Chill, dude. You can’t fuck my car.”

Sam chuckled as he got into the backseat. “Good luck with that.”

Dean’s grin just got wider as he shifted the car into gear. “It’s just been awhile. I miss my Baby.”

“You drive an Impala?” Christa asked, already knowing the answer. “What color is she?”

“Black.”

“Boring.”

“Shut it.”

Christa smirked and shook her head. “Where are we heading, anyway?”

“Lebanon.”

“What’s out there?”

“I don’t know,” Dean admitted.

Christa shrugged and settled back. She had no idea how far Lebanon was, so she closed her eyes and tried to drift into a light sleep.

* * *

Dean parked the car outside of what looked like an abandoned power plant. Christa was groggy, not quite having fallen into a deep sleep but wavered somewhere just above that.

“We’re here,” Dean announced.

Sam got out of the car and stretched, despite the short drive. He opened Christa’s door. Christa smiled sleepily at Sam and he felt his heart drop because she looked exactly the way she did back in his world. Even her eyes sparkled a little as she squinted against the sun. They followed Dean, walking just a couple paces behind him. Sam couldn’t help but be drawn to her. The ache of losing Jessica again was driving him crazy and he just wanted comfort and solace from his best friend. Rather, his best friend’s doppelganger. The fact he couldn’t just scoop her into his arms and hug her tight, kiss her face, and get lost in her scent added to the pain searing his chest from the inside out. On the verge of screaming, he gently took her hand in his and was silent as she closed her fingers around his.

He glanced over at her and she just grinned at him, sadness and understanding in her eyes. He wondered if she felt that pull, that ache of longing for him the way he did with her.

“Sammy, check it out,” Dean said as he approached a patch of overgrowth along a sloping cement wall. Sam let go of Christa’s hand as if she’d bitten him and helped Dean push branches and stems aside. Christa could just barely see the outline of a door.

“We’re going into the basement of a power plant?”

The brothers exchanged A Look – which drove Christa crazy because why even bother keeping secrets anymore? – and shrugged. She made a noise of annoyance and helped them yank and pull the shrubbery aside.

When they cleared out enough room to open the door, they stepped back. Christa didn’t see a handle or any sort of place to insert a key. “So how do we get in?”

“Dean, we don’t have the key in this world.”

“We don’t have time to look. Do you remember if there was another way to unlock the door?”

Sam thought for a moment. “Yeah. The blood of a descendent could open it in emergencies. I’m not sure if it will work, here.”

Dean already had a small switchblade in his hand. “Better make it two, just in case it doesn’t recognize us.”

“Yeah, okay,” Sam held his hand out and Dean sliced a thin line across the palm, the same as he did on himself.

Christa watched them, wide-eyed and silent, praying that this worked.

Together they placed their hands along right seam of the door, the cuts parallel to it, and waited.

Minutes ticked by and nothing happened. Sam was about to pull his hand away and suggest they get inside above ground when a screeching sound came from behind the door. He found that he couldn’t move his hand away from the seam no matter how hard he tried. “Dean?”

“I’m stuck, Sam!” A flash of light shone through the outline of the door, bright enough so all three covered their eyes. A loud crash and the sound of heavy machinery churning to life rumbled through the cement wall. The brothers still couldn’t move from the door.

“Dean? Sam?” Christa was panicking and unsure of what she could do. The guys grimaced and then Sam fell to his knees, his jaw clenched as he groaned in pain. “Sam! Oh my God, Sammy!” Christa dashed over to him and knelt beside him. As soon as she did, Dean howled in pain and dropped, his hand holding up his limp body. She went over to him after making sure Sam was conscious and got under his arm to bear his weight; she wrapped an arm around his waist and used her hip to help prop him up. “Oh my God, someone please help us,” she whispered, struggling under the weight of Dean.

Sam’s eyes closed and Christa watched helplessly as his head nodded forward and he slumped against the wall. “Sam,” she whispered through tears.

She stood there holding Dean up and trying to wake him up for several minutes. She shook him, tapped his face, gave him a wet willy, stomped on his foot, shouted, screamed, and nothing worked. She was about to scream again in pure anger and frustration when Castiel appeared.

“You’re making too much noise,” he said as he reached out to her; then Christa’s world went dark.


	6. The Flame Still Burns

When Christa awoke, she was in a dark room, lying face down on a hard surface. She winced and pushed herself up to her hands and knees, taking in her surroundings. She was on the floor of what could only be a library and her first thoughts were _where the fuck am I?_ and _why am I in a library?_

“I brought you here,” said a voice from behind her. She stood up and slowly turned, anger searing through her again as her gaze settled on her least favorite angel. “You’re inside the bunker. Safe.”

“Sam and Dean?”

“They’re fine. I took them to their rooms.”

“And you just left me on the floor.”

“I was in a hurry.”

Christa clenched her jaw and bit back a string of insults. “What the hell is your problem?”

“You don’t belong there. With them.”

“Where? With who?” Christa was getting angrier by the moment.

“Sam and Dean. In their world – you can’t exist there with them.”

“Is that why Jess had to die?”

Castiel didn’t answer. His ice blue eyes stared into Christa, as if he could see right into her and he knew all of her thoughts and things she’d ever done and said.

“It is, isn’t it? Because Sam loves her and he would have tried to bring her back. But Dean knows I can’t go with him! Right? I’m already… there’s already one of me there and she’s with Sam.” Christa let angry tears flow down her face as she spoke. “And if Sam brought Jess back… then he’d have to choose between me – other me – and her.” Her voice got quiet.

“Dean loves you, also. The other you. I’m sure he’d be happy to comfort you – her – if Sam had succeeded in transferring Jess to his own world.”

“Why are they here, Castiel? What’s going on?”

Castiel finally broke his steely gaze away from her and sighed. “We had to switch them out with alternate versions of themselves to protect them from being hunted.”

“We? Like the angels?” Castiel nodded. “Hunted? So the completely innocent men – the ones that exist here – are over there? Being hunted? As bait?”

“Well, yes. But we have them hidden away as best as we can. They don’t smell like these Winchesters and it’s thrown the hunt off but intel has leaked and now the demons are on to us.”

“You think?” Christa spat, leaning against the table behind her as she trembled. “They already fucking took Jess! Christ, man.” She swallowed a lump in her throat. “Did it hurt her?”

Castiel stared at her for a moment. The long pauses were really starting to annoy her and she glared back at him. “She’s still alive. But it is killing her. Her body can’t handle being possessed by something so powerful for much longer.”

“So what are we dealing with, here?” Sam came into the library, looking a little pale but fine otherwise. “Something more powerful than Crowley or Lucifer?” He looked at Christa and swallowed as he saw how defeated she looked but he didn’t make a move towards her.

“Much.”

“How much?” Dean asked as he, too, entered the library. He also looked pale but Christa couldn’t tell if there was anything else wrong with him. His green eyes met her tear-filled blue ones and he strode over to her, wrapping her in his arms. Christa hooked her arms under his and clung to his shoulders, breathing him in as she blinked out more tears.

“Enough to travel between worlds without the aid of a portal,” Castiel said vaguely.

“Are we safe here? Do we have enough time to hold it off until we can figure out what we need?” Dean asked, pulling away from Christa and turning to face Castiel. He stood between them as if protecting her from him.

“You have some time, but not a lot. You must prioritize what’s most important. And she is not. She cannot go back with you and she cannot survive what’s coming. It’s best you say your goodbyes sooner rather than later.”

Dean heard Christa’s breath hitch behind him as she heard Castiel speak about her death again that day.

“Why did it leave me alive in the first place? It had every opportunity to kill me back on the highway and it didn’t,” Christa said as she tried to keep her voice steady.

“I don’t know, probably to draw the Winchesters out and make them a much easier target. It probably knew they would come for you.”

A heavy silence hung in the air between the four of them. Sam was staring at his feet, Dean was staring at Castiel and Christa was studying her hands clasped in front of her. She chewed on her lip for a moment, then stepped around Dean and walked up to Castiel. “Get me out of here. If my being here makes it easier for whatever it is to track them, then take me away. Let it come for me so they can get away.”

“Chris! No!” Sam finally spoke up and grabbed her elbow, pulling her away from Castiel’s outstretched hand.

“Sam, please. You heard him – I’m going to get in your way, get you killed, or die. You two have a lot of work to do back in your world. I don’t know how I know that, but I do. Just being near you, Sam… it’s like I can feel you.” She reached up with her free hand and touched his cheek, seeing his hazel eyes darken with emotion. Her eyes moved to Dean, “I love you, Dean,” she smiled sadly and shook her head, “which is fucking ridiculous because I’ve known you for what? A week? But it tells me that your Christa – the one probably losing her mind to get you two back – has a deep connection with both of you. I’m nobody. I don’t matter and I can’t go back with you. So let me go.”

“That’s not how this works, sweetheart,” Dean grumbled, approaching her and Sam. “You don’t decide to die. We don’t just let you die. We protect people from things like demons and whatever else comes at us. That’s what we do. So no, Christa. You’re staying here with us and we’re going to do everything we can to protect you.” He pulled her head to him and kissed her forehead while Sam still held on to her elbow.

Christa felt whole standing between these two men. She could feel their determination radiating off of them, their hurt from losing loved ones throughout the years, and their love for her. Christa understood, fully in that moment, that it was possible to love two people so much it felt like your heart would burst. She pulled Sam and Dean to her and felt them both wrap their arms around her. She kissed Dean passionately and with the longing that she could keep him. He kissed her back and swallowed a small noise of disappointment when she pulled her lips away. Christa turned her face to Sam and kissed him, too. He was a bit surprised at first but he opened to her and she put her love and hope for him into the kiss. He was the first one to pull away but he didn’t go far; he pressed his forehead against hers and closed his eyes.

Dean finally turned back to Castiel only to find him gone. He took a deep breath and disentangled himself from Christa and Sam. The sight of them in each other’s arms felt right and Dean didn’t feel a single ounce of jealousy as he studied them.

“We should get a plan together, Sammy.”

Sam’s hazel eyes, still full of sadness, opened and he nodded, gently pulling away from Christa.

“Can I help?” Christa asked. The brothers exchanged a look and then Dean shrugged and beckoned her over.

“Yeah, let’s see what you got in that brain of yours, hm?”

Sam went to the card catalogue and started pulling index cards for the books he thought they needed. If the Men of Letters had experienced any sort of world-crossing monsters, it would be in their library. Christa came up behind him silently and he handed her a few cards so she could go get the books off their shelves.

* * *

“We don’t have any idea how much time we have?” Christa asked, already knowing the answer but hoping one of them would lie to her and say days, weeks, maybe a month!

Sam shook his head, no. He’d barely looked at her the entire time they scoured the books in front of them. Christa felt the urge to reach out and cover his hand with hers and was about to do just that when Dean’s stomach audibly grumbled.

Her blue eyes fell on him as her mouth formed a sort of incredulous smile. “What the hell was that, Winchester?”

“I’m fucking starving!” Dean sat back and groaned.

“I’ll go see what we’ve got in here. Probably gonna be a lot of cans or MREs,” Sam excused himself to go to the kitchen.

Dean’s gaze on her darkened as soon as Sam left the room and Christa would have blushed with the way he was looking at her if there was anyone else to see it. He was sitting back in his chair, studying her silently. Christa felt goose bumps on her thighs and swallowed as a familiar ache formed between her legs. “Dean, stop looking at me like you’re going to eat me,” Christa teased, trying to dispel the tension that grew thicker with every second. As she watched him out of the corner of her eye, she saw his gaze drop to her hips and thighs. The ache grew into a soft pulse.

“That’s not out of the question, is it?” He asked; his voice was low and deep as it usually was when there was something on his mind.

Christa licked her lips and shifted in her chair, trying to ignore his penetrating stare. She didn’t answer aside from rolling her eyes and smirking.

Dean was out of his seat before she could react, standing behind her with his hands resting on her shoulders. He gently began to rub her shoulders and neck with strong but gentle fingers. Christa closed her eyes and moaned involuntarily as he released some of the tension. His fingers applied a little bit more pressure and Christa let her head roll forward as she melted into his touch, another moan escaping her lips.

“Hey guys,” Sam said as he entered the library. “We have enough canned goods to make several meals, so I’ll get started on something. Any requests?”

Dean’s touch lightened and Christa turned her head to smile at him. “Chef’s choice, Sam.”

Sam looked to Dean his eyes asking him the same question. Dean shook his head, “Just nothing fancy. It all comes out looking the same anyway.”

“Ew! Dean!” Christa laughed and she saw Sam’s face lighten in a small smile as he turned away and headed back to the kitchen.

“I’ll call you when it’s ready,” Sam called back over his shoulder.

“Now where were we?” Dean asked, his voice dropping again and his fingers applying pressure to the muscles where her neck met her shoulders.

Christa really couldn’t help it, the man had magic fingers, and she moaned again.

“You’ve gotta stop doing that, Christa,” he murmured, not actually wanting her to stop.

“Sorry, Dean. God your hands are magical,” she sighed, her eyes closing again.

Dean slid one hand down the front of her shirt, just barely grazing the top of her bra with his fingertips. He went back to her shoulder and continued massaging and dipping his hand down every so often. She moaned again as his hand went into her bra and he gave her nipple a small tweak, eliciting another moan directly after the first.

He did it again, feeling her back arch into his hand this time. “Dean,” Christa whispered. “We should focus on work. Sam’s in the kitchen,”

“Yeah, he’s in the kitchen. And we’re here.” Dean interrupted her, squeezing her breast again. He thought of when Sam kicked him out of the library to fuck Christa in the other reality and he heard her scream his brother’s name. “I’ll stop if you want me to,” he said and started pulling his hand away from her.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Christa whispered and pulled his hands back to her.

Dean leaned down, both his hands sliding into her shirt, his warm palms pressing against her skin. Christa tilted her head and caught his lips with hers as he pinched her nipples again. She moaned into his mouth, the heat between her legs becoming unbearable. He pulled away from the kiss only a moment later and pulled his hands out to grasp the chair. He slid it out from the table and pulled Christa to him, crashing his mouth to hers again once she was pressed against him. His hands slid down her waist to her hips and then unbuttoned her jeans. They were shoved haphazardly off her hips; he was trying to move quickly, a sense of urgency permeating his every touch and kiss. In one smooth motion, he spun them both around so her butt was against the table.

As if she read his mind, Christa pushed her underwear down and hopped up onto the table. Dean dropped to his knees and hooked her legs over his shoulders as he grasped her hips and pulled her to him. She felt his hot breath on her sex and then hissed as his tongue licked the length of her slit. His green eyes flicked up to her face and she stared down at him, leaning back on one hand as the other gripped his hair. Moments later, he was writing the alphabet on her clit with his tongue and she was swallowing her moans as the coil of pleasure tightened inside of her.

His tongue suddenly moved and licked her folds again and Christa groaned. She felt him grin against her as he teased her with his tongue, licking her everywhere except where she needed it.

“Dean!” She hissed, almost whimpering with need.

“Mm?” He looked up at her again and gently blew on her, immensely enjoying watching her squirm and bite back whatever she might have otherwise demanded of him.

“Please,” she finally gasped as he gently parted her folds with his fingertips.

Dean lingered for just a moment more, watching her face contort with aggravation and desire. Without warning, he went right back to writing the alphabet on her overly sensitive nub of nerve bundles. Her thigh muscles tensed and he teased his fingertips at her entrance, drawing gasps and soft whimpers from her. He was intoxicated by her scent and taste, focusing on nothing but her sounds and moving his tongue fast enough to get her to where she needed to be.

Christa clenched her jaw; she wasn’t able to hold off any longer. She inhaled deeply as the knot inside of her unraveled and pleasure flooded her senses. Her legs shook and her arm supporting her weight trembled. Her other hand covered her mouth as she moaned his name in the throes of ecstasy. Dean pulled back from her and licked his lips before he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He watched her orgasm crash through her – the way her back arched and hips twitched as she cried out into her hand. He swallowed a lump in his throat, missing the time he’d spent with the other Christa more than he’d ever admit.

She finally slumped forward, panting, her orgasm nothing but a faint wave and a rapid heartbeat. Dean grabbed her underwear and slid it back up her legs as far as he could. Christa slid off the table and he pulled them the rest of the way up. He leaned in to kiss her forehead, but she grabbed his head and brought his lips to hers. She devoured him, loving the taste of her sex on his lips and tongue. Breathlessly, he pulled away with a satisfied smirk on his face.

“Food’s ready!” Sam called.

Christa studied Dean’s smirk before she picked up her jeans and slid them back on. “Don’t look so smug, Winchester.”

He laughed softly, “Why? Was it not good? I could have sworn you said my name…”

Christa glared at him and then rolled her eyes.

“I can always try again if it wasn’t good enough,” Dean whispered seductively, sliding his fingertips into the top of her jeans.

She closed her eyes and sighed, then batted his hand away. “Food now. Fucking later.”

“Yes ma’am,” he replied with a gleam in his eyes as he led the way to the kitchen.

Sam had made a casserole with canned chicken, cream of mushroom, and vegetables. There was dried biscuit mix that only needed water added, and he’d topped the dish with those and baked everything. It smelled wonderful.

“So much better than gas station food!” Christa exclaimed as she followed Dean in.

Sam noticed the smug look on his brother’s face and the flush on Christa’s cheeks. “Okay, you know I have just one rule, you two. No fucking in the kitchen.” Christa stopped in her tracks and her face turned a bright crimson as Dean shot Sam A Look. “What? You can do that anywhere else – just not where we eat. It’s unsanitary.”

“You’re unsanitary,” Dean snapped and sat down with a plate. He started shoveling the food into his mouth before Christa and Sam could even join him. She and Sam made eye contact as Sam just shook his head and sighed; there was no excuse for Dean sometimes.

“I’ll clean up,” Christa offered when everyone had eaten.

Dean was momentarily cranky when he remembered there was no beer in the fridge. He pouted for a moment and then stormed off somewhere.

“Liquor cabinet,” Sam answered Christa’s unspoken question.

“Does he really need to be drinking right now? We have stuff we need to figure out.”

“Trust me, sometimes it’s better to just let him drink,” Sam said and finished stacking the plates next to the sink. “Want me to stay and dry?”

Christa smiled at him; it was full of kindness and adoration. Sam missed that smile. “That’s okay, Sammy. I know there’s a lot of work to be done. I can handle this.”

He nodded and kissed the top of her head before he left the kitchen to go back to the library.

The dishes were hand-washed and dried pretty quickly. They hadn’t left any of the casserole uneaten, so she soaked that for a few minutes and let herself get lost in her thoughts. The bunker was quiet and she had no idea how expansive it was, but assumed it was sizeable. Her thoughts turned to Jess and she felt her stomach churn at the fact there was nothing she could do to save her. As soon as she finished, she went to the library in the hopes that Dean had a bottle of something brown and made of rye on-hand.

Sam had a stack of books next to him and Dean was perusing a single one in front of him. He glanced at Christa as she sat across the table from him, next to Sam. “This pile is new,” Sam said and gestured at the stack on the table. “Everything on the floor’s been looked through.”

Christa grabbed the book on the top of the stack and started skimming the chapter titles.

A thought occurred to Sam and he tried to think of how to ask Dean what he was thinking. His eyes glanced to Christa, wondering if he should give her any back story before he dove into these questions. He decided against it. “Dean? What if… what if somehow Lilith isn’t dead?”

“Sam that’s fucking crazy. She’s dead. You killed her and it opened Lucifer’s cage, remember?”

Christa almost winced at Dean’s tone of voice, noting the anger just under the surface.

“I know, but Dean… she was the first demon. Before Cain, before Crowley, before any of the princes of Hell, there was Lilith. She was the strongest of all the demons. And this book I have says that if a powerful enough being summons something back, then it comes back.”

“A powerful enough being? Like what?” Christa asked.

“Like, like a nephilim or even if a coven of witches are powerful enough,” Sam skimmed the next page and made a face. “It even says that basically any of the first creations would be powerful enough. So Adam, Eve, any of the archangels, Lucifer included. Thing is, it would take a lot of juice for any of them acting alone, aside from the nephilim.”

“What exactly is a nephilim and why would one of them want to summon Lilith to come after you? I mean again, apparently,” Christa said.

“A nephilim is half-angel, half-human. One of the most powerful supernatural beings to ever exist,” Sam explained as Dean rolled his eyes. “We’ve done our fair share of pissing off the angels, so it wouldn’t be completely out of the question.”

“It’s more likely a coven, though. Lucifer’s in the cage, powerless, and we ganked Eve. Adam,” Dean shrugged, “hasn’t ever turned up. So that leaves us with either archangels or witches. My vote’s on witches.”

Sam nodded, staring at the pages before him. “I mean, that could make sense. If they’re powerful enough to cross realities, they’re strong enough to send demons in, too.” He paused, re-reading some of the pages. “But I don’t know, man. My gut is telling me Lilith is back and in a bad way.”

“Well unless you’ve been drinking demon blood again,” Dean snapped, “maybe we go with the obvious answer that it’s witches.” Dean slammed shut the book in front of him and got up. “Besides, Christa said Jess had black eyes, not white.” He grabbed the glass decanter of golden liquid as he started to exit the library.

“Dean, hear me out,” Sam started.

“I’m done talking about this right now, Sam.” Dean left.

“I’m not even going to ask,” Christa said quietly as the sound of a door slamming echoed through the bunker. She looked over at Sam, who nodded and rubbed his face.

“I need a break. I can’t think straight.”

“That’s okay, Sam. Go take a break. I’ll see what I can find, even though I’m pretty sure I have literally no idea what I’m looking for.”

“I’d start with trying to find records of any weapons that can kill just about anything.” Sam pushed his chair out from the table but didn’t immediately get up. He stared down at his hands, which were clasped between his thighs. Christa watched him out of the corner of her eye, wondering what was going through his head at the moment. She didn’t want to press, so she didn’t say anything.

After a few more moments, Sam cleared his throat. “Hey, Chris?”

“Yeah, Sam?”

“Why did you kiss me, earlier?”

Christa turned to look at him. “It just felt right, I guess? You stopped me from doing something utterly stupid and, I don’t know, I just thought I should.”

“It was nice,” Sam commented, still not making eye contact with her. “It was like kissing her. Almost exactly like it. I think I needed it.”

“I’m sorry, Sam.”

“Why?” He finally looked up, his hazel eyes searching her face.

“I’m sorry you guys ran into me, of all people, and Jess. It’s like God played some cruel trick on you guys, sending you directly to us.”

“Unfortunately, I don’t think God has anything to do with this. He’s been missing for awhile, now, at least where we come from. Hence Castiel being our liaison for everything Heaven-related.”

“Did you really kill Lilith and set Lucifer free?”

“I thought so,” Sam sat up, leaning back in his chair, now. He shook his head. “I’m not sure of anything, anymore. Dean and I have seriously pissed off a lot of things and taking Jess is a clear sign that whatever it is – it’s after me. To think Lilith might be alive and be behind this whole thing is plausible.”

“But is it possible?”

Sam shrugged one shoulder. “Who knows. Even Cas seems to be in the dark about what it is.”

“It must be stealthy if it’s not even being picked up by angels,” Christa agreed. “I’m going to go check on Dean – make sure he’s not drinking himself stupid.” She gave Sam a lop-sided grin and stood up. “Take as much time as you need for a break. I’ll be back.”

Sam stood up and reached for her before she turned away. Christa looked at him as his hand held her elbow lightly. In the next moment, Sam’s mouth was on hers and his other hand was on her waist. Surprised, Christa froze for several seconds as her mind whirled and she tried to decide if she should kiss him back or pull away.

The latter instinct won and she pulled away from him. She raised the back of her hand to her mouth, her blue eyes wide. “Sam,”

“I’m sorry, Chris, I,”

“I can’t,” she interrupted, shaking her head and walking out of the library.

Christa roamed the bunker, eventually ending up in the hallway where the dormitory was. She opened doors until she got to one that was locked and she knocked softly. “Dean? Are you in there?” Several seconds later, Dean cracked his door open and stuck his head out. “It’s just me, Dean.”

He opened the door and pulled her inside before shutting and locking his door again. Christa noticed he smelled very much like whiskey. The decanter on his desk was only two-thirds full.

“Save some for the rest of the class, damn,” Christa teased and helped herself to a big swallow.

Dean sat on the edge of his bed and scratched his stubbly jaw. “Sam send you in to get me?”

Christa shook her head and sat next to him, holding the decanter out to him. “I came here to find out where you’d hidden the good stuff.” She smiled at him as he took the whiskey from her and drank deeply. “Oookay, babe. That’s enough for now,” Christa said gently and took the bottle from him, again. “What’s going on with you, Dean?”

Dean shook his head, refusing to answer. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I just wanted some alone time.”

“I can leave, then,” Christa offered and stood up.

Dean grabbed her wrist and held her. “Stay.”

She sat back down and then Dean was on top of her, undressing her and kissing her all over.

* * *

“Dean! Please! I can’t!” Christa cried out as he pushed her through her third orgasm since she found his room. He smirked down at her, slowing his hips just a bit as she shoved his hand away from her clit.

“God, Christa,” he sighed, watching her back arch and her teeth work on her lower lip. While she was catching her breath, he slowed even more and lowered himself onto his elbows. Her eyes finally opened and met his as he studied her face. “Jesus,” he whispered and then kissed her deeply. He would never admit it, but the possibility of facing off against Lilith again scared him to death.

Christa was surprised but Dean kept things low and slow until he finished.

They fell asleep for awhile before Christa woke with a start. She remembered Sam was by himself, trying to figure out what the hell they were dealing with. Quietly, she hurriedly dressed and found her way back to the library. Sam was asleep at the table, his head resting on his outstretched arm and several books open in front of and around him. Christa watched him sleep for a moment, then sat down across from him and angled the table lamp towards her. She began to read through the books again.

 

**DAY NINE**

She was up most of the night reading. Sam woke up sometime during the night and she made him go to bed. He eventually gave in and started shuffling off. At the doorway to the library, he turned around and looked at her for several moments. Christa gave him a friendly smile and bid him goodnight.

“Focus on Lilith, Chris. I really think that’s what we’re dealing with.”

Christa nodded, “Okay, Sam. I trust your judgment.”

“Night, Chris.”

“Night.”

Once Sam disappeared around the corner, Christa shelved some of the books that she’d looked through and then went to pull more cards. There were books solely on exorcisms, on creation of demons, and on the hierarchies of Hell. Christa learned more about evil and Hell than she ever thought she would in one sitting.

When Dean shuffled in, dressed only in sweatpants, and asked her how long she’d been awake, Christa could only shrug. “I have no clue. But I think Sam’s right. I think it’s Lilith. Look.”

She pulled all evidence she’d found of how Lilith supposedly moved through worlds, at how powerful she was, and despite her being killed to open Lucifer’s cage, Christa learned Lilith could exist between realities in some kind of nothingness until something summoned her back to any reality.

Dean rubbed his stubbly cheek as he considered the evidence and then nodded. “Okay then. Anything on how to kill this bitch? Again?”

“That’s where I’m currently stuck. Obviously, Sam killed her previously – and I didn’t ask how – so we need to find out how to re-kill her and keep her from being summoned back again. Sam did mention a gun earlier; I just haven’t been able to get to that, yet.”

“Fantastic,” Dean mumbled, blankly staring at the books on the table. He sighed and padded out of the library, “I’m going to need an entire pot of coffee. Be right back.”

Several minutes passed and the faint smell of coffee grew stronger as Dean came back to the library with two mugs and the entire coffee pot. He poured them both a cup and sat down to start working, desperate to find anything of use so Sam didn’t have to start drinking demon blood, again. Not to mention that was in very short supply at the moment. Christa, exhausted physically but mentally wired, kept getting distracted by Dean. She watched how his arm muscles would flex when he turned a page or grabbed another book, how his shoulders would hunch up slightly when he was really focusing on something, and how his lips moved ever-so-slightly as he read over the pages.

She finished with her cup of coffee rather quickly and poured herself another because she kept stifling yawns.

“You should get some sleep,” Dean said without looking up.

“I’m fine,” Christa protested, fighting another urge to yawn.

His green eyes looked up at her skeptically.

“I am! I swear. And I think I’m on to something.”

“Then give me the book and go to bed,” Dean replied, reaching across the table for the book.

“Okay, fine, but just let me finish this chapter. I swear I’ll go to bed after that.”

“Mm,” Dean voiced his disbelief in one syllable then got back to reading.

Christa found it increasingly difficult to focus on the words in front of her. They began to blur together and not make any sense. She began reading the same sentences over and over again and got frustrated with her lack of ability to focus. The frustration didn’t last long, though, because she nodded off and before she could catch herself, she was fast asleep at the table.

Dean sighed and marked his place in the book in front of him and got up from the table. He moved her chair out and squatted down to scoop her up into his arms before he carried her to his bedroom and set her down on the bed. He thought she weighed less than the Christa he knew – surely she didn’t have as much muscle, but she was definitely the same height and similar build. Lastly, he covered her with a blanket and kissed her forehead before he pulled on a shirt and went back to the library.


	7. Rev on the Red Line

Sam joined him several minutes later and looked confusedly at the extra mug on the table.

“It was Christa’s. I just took her to bed.”

“Was she in here all night?”

“Mmhmm. She refused to go to bed when I told her to and fell asleep at the table.”

Sam smirked a little, remembering that he did the same thing last night, and took Christa’s place. “So what do we have?”

“You were right – at least according to Christa – about Lilith. The books here said she’s able to be summoned back from some kind of inter-dimensional plane if the summoning entity is powerful enough.” Dean turned the book he had towards Sam, pointing at the paragraph in question.

“Okay, so do we have a lead on what’s behind this, yet?”

“Not a clue.”

“But we’re screwed.”

“If Lilith finds us – sideways.”

Sam sighed and turned the book back to Dean after skimming the pages in front of him. “Great.” He looked down at the book in front of him, the one Christa had been reading, and turned back to the beginning of the chapter.

A few hours later, Castiel appeared and glanced around. “Christa has left?”

“She’s sleeping,” Sam replied dryly.

“Oh.”

The brothers both looked up, impatience clear on their features. “Did you come here to give us grief about protecting her or did you come for something else?” Dean snapped.

“Something else,” Castiel replied monotonously.

Sam gave him a look of utter confusion when Castiel didn’t expound. “Well?”

“More demons have been able to make their way into this world. I believe Lilith is here, also. It won’t be long before she shows up.”

“So you know it’s her?” Dean’s irritation was prominent.

“Yes, it’s been confirmed that it is her. I assumed you knew as much,” Castiel gestured at the stacks of books on and around the table.

“Yeah, we kinda figured that out, Cas. So how do we defeat her?” Sam asked.

Castiel shook his head slowly. “You need the Colt.”

Sam nodded and pursed his lips. Now he was two-for-two and not entirely thrilled about it.

“And it doesn’t exist in this world, because we don’t exist and neither do you or any of the demons.” Dean said.

Castiel merely looked between the two of them. “I don’t know about the status of the Colt in this world. Truth be told, I’ve been looking for it and unable to find it, myself. It may be warded or may not exist. I can tell you that Lilith will be powerful enough to destroy this world in about thirty-six hours if she isn’t stopped. And only you can do that.” Before Sam could ask him another question, Castiel disappeared.

“Great. Just great,” Dean growled, slamming his fist down on the table.

Sam sat still, racking his brain to try to figure out a course of action. “Dean, I still remember how to make the bullets.”

“That doesn’t help if we don’t have the gun, Sammy,” his brother snapped.

“We’ll find it.”

“In less than two and a half days? Cause that’s all we got!”

A couple more hours passed and a very sleepy Christa walked into the library. She had changed into a tank top with one of Dean’s long sleeve shirts over it and pulled her hair back. “What can I do to help?”

Sam and Dean looked at each other, communicating in their silent way that was slowly starting to grate on Christa’s nerves.

 

She and Dean searched every possible nook and cranny of the bunker, including the safes and many enchanted boxes. It took them awhile longer than it should have because they were more focused on each other than the task until they split up. Once they did, Christa managed to find a key to the bunker and handed it off to Dean when they met up again.

Sam, still in the library, finally dug out a strange book called “The Winchester House.” He sat down with it and his eyes got wide. Right about then, Christa and Dean reappeared empty-handed. “Guys. Sit down, I think I got something. So, here in this world, there’s an estate in San Jose, California called the Winchester House.”

“Oh! Yeah, I’ve heard of that. It was built by Sarah Winchester in the 1800’s. She was convinced she was being haunted by ghosts of people killed by Winchester rifles, so she had construction go on all day and night, all week, all year, for almost her entire life. The house is riddled with stairs to nowhere, skylights in the floors, doors to nowhere, and more than one hundred rooms – all meant to confuse the spirits she was convinced were haunting her.” Christa paused, her eyes going from one brother to the other; both of them were staring at her as if she were crazy.

“And you didn’t think to mention the correlation between our last name and this house, why?” Dean asked.

Christa shrugged. “I didn’t think it was connected?”

“Dean. Be nice. This book says the house was started in 1883. Featured prominently in the home is the number 13,” Sam’s eyes flicked up to Dean. “Sound familiar?” He resumed skimming the pages, looking for more information. “Apparently there was a ’25-Thousand-Dollar Room,’ named for the value of its contents at the turn of the 20th century. When Sarah Winchester died, her niece Marian Marriott inherited the house and all of her possessions, most of which she auctioned off.” Sam reached for his laptop and began typing rapidly.

Christa and Dean exchanged a glance and Christa pulled the book over to them. She continued skimming the pages. “Sarah died in 1922. Her niece was born in 1868 – that’s only two years after Sarah’s own daughter died. She was buried in New Haven, Connecticut in a family plot.”

“Sam I need to know how this ties to anything.”

Sam held up a finger and clicked the keypad several more times. “Got it! It says here, in this item listing, that Marian Marriott auctioned off many rare items to collectors. Included in those items? A Colt revolver with an engraved wooden handle.”

“Great, so who bought it?”

At that, Sam frowned. “It doesn’t say. It was a private auction; only the wealthiest were present and they didn’t have to log who bought what.”

“Did you say a Colt revolver?” Christa asked, carefully forming her words. The idea that they were talking about THE Colt revolver that had been in her mom’s side of the family for generations was spinning lazily in the back of her mind. Dean and Sam turned to her, waiting for her to continue. “This gun existed in your world? Where did you find it, originally?”

“Manning, Colorado, just south of Cheyenne.”

Christa pursed her lips and thought for a moment. She stood up and walked around to Sam’s side of the table, “Let me see your laptop?”

He leaned to the side and she pulled up a map website. She typed in, “Fort Collins, Colorado” and when the pin dropped, Sam’s eyes went wide. “Holy shit, Dean! Think about it! If Daniel Elkins existed in our world – he has to exist here. At least some version of him, even if he’s not a vampire hunter – his dad very well could have come into possession of the Colt and passed it on.”

“Did you say Daniel Elkins?” Christa asked as her heart skipped a beat.

“Yeah, why?” Sam replied as a look of concern creased his brow.

“That’s my great uncle’s name,” Christa whispered.

“Let’s move. Time’s running out,” Dean said as he stood up. They had thirty three hours to go.

Dean drove Christa’s Impala with Sam in the front seat and Christa in the back behind Dean. She had the book Sam had brought with them that the boys kept referring to as “Dad’s Journal,” despite it actually being called _Symbols, Mysteries, and the Occult._

“Guys, the Colt is mentioned in this book,” she announced, fascinated.

Sam turned around to look at her, his eyebrows knitted together. “It’s actually mentioned by name?”

“Well, no, but look.” Christa held the book open and showed Sam a picture of the very same Colt revolver that had been used to kill Azazel. “It’s a revolver, wooden handle, engraved with,”

“ _Non timebo mala_ ,” Sam interrupted. “It means ‘I will fear no evil.’ How did I miss that?”

“We had no idea what we were looking for, Sammy. Even I didn’t pay attention to the weapons in the journal. We were looking for portals.”

“I just feel like an idiot for not looking at Dad’s journal more closely.”

“Nothing we can do about it, now. We’ll find the Colt, Sam. Christa, how sure are you that your great uncle still has it?”

Christa shrugged, “I’m not even sure he’s still alive to be honest. We were never close. He’s an uncle of my mother’s.” At this, the brothers exchanged one of their looks. “My mother only ever mentioned it a couple of times to other family. She said he ought to sell it, that it was probably worth thousands being one-of-a-kind, and use that money to live somewhere nicer.”

Dean glanced at Sam again. “We’ll find it,” he reassured his brother.

There was something about the way Dean bolstered Sam that touched Christa’s heart deeply. Something had happened between them in the past, she was sure of it, and Dean was trying to make sure it didn’t happen again. Christa had a feeling in the pit of her stomach that it was Lilith – that it had always been Lilith. She sat back with the book, perusing the pages and learning more about the supernatural world than she ever thought she would.

Dean got them to Fort Collins, Colorado in about seven hours. It was full dark and they reluctantly decided to get a room and crash for the night, despite having just over a day left. 

**DAY TEN**

When they stopped for gas in the morning, Sam looked up the last name Elkins in the phone book. He swallowed a lump in his throat when he didn’t see the name. Christa came up to him while Dean pumped gas. “He’s not in here,” Sam said, frustration edging his voice.

Christa looked up at him. “My mom always did say that he was a private man. Too private. How did you find him the first time?”

“Well, he has a cabin on the outskirts of town. But this world is different from ours.”

“I remember seeing pictures of him by a cabin when I was little,” Christa replied. “Besides, this world really isn’t that different, is it? The street names and highways are all the same, right?”

Sam looked at Christa as his brain clicked. He hugged her to him, sighing in relief. “Jesus, Chris. What would we do without you? I could kiss you.”

Christa saw how serious he was on his face and laughed a bit nervously before she hugged him back.

Twenty minutes later, they pulled up to Daniel Elkins’ cabin. He greeted them warmly with a shotgun in hand.

The Winchesters and Christa raised their hands high in the air so he could see them.

“Who are you??” Elkins demanded.

“Hi, Daniel Elkins?”

He cocked the shotgun. “I asked you who you are! If you’re not gonna answer, you can leave.”

“S-sorry! Uh, I’m Sam Winchester and this is Dean Winchester. The lady in the back is Christa Edelwood. We came here to talk to you about a revolver you have in your possession.”

Elkins squinted. “What about it?”

Sam swallowed nervously. “We um. We kind of need it.”

“It’s not for sale.”

“We just want to borrow it.”

“What for? You just come on to my property and – wait. Did you say her last name is Edelwood? And yours is Winchester?”

“Yes, sir.”

Elkins seemed to reconsider his hostility as that information sunk in. His eyes darted around as the surrounding woods got eerily quiet. “Get inside. All of you, now.”

* * *

“You’re saying this demon, Lilith, she’s been summoned back to life and is now hunting you down into this world, bringing an entire demon army with her?”

“Yes. I know it’s hard to believe but that’s why we need the Colt. It’s the only thing that can kill her.”

Elkins regarded the younger men and woman in front of him once again. “The only thing? Just a regular old gun made by some cowboy, huh? What’s to stop her from being summoned back again? You said you killed her once already.”

Sam sighed. “I’m not sure she was even killed. She was probably just sent back to Hell. Either way, we’re still trying to figure that out but the Colt is the key to all of this. We only have a few hours left before Lilith begins destroying this reality and then moves to other ones.”

“Daniel?” Christa finally spoke up and set the book on the table, opened to the page about the Colt. “I know we’re not close, but you’re my mother’s uncle. And this book tells us we need the gun. If you still have it, please give it to us.”

Daniel pulled it closer to him and studied the page, closely. “Where did you find this book?”

“We took it from our friend, Bobby Singer.” Dean replied. This answer earned him another hard look from Elkins. “Bobby was convinced our dad, John, didn’t die of cancer. He was convinced it was something else – something much worse. All we know is he deteriorated so rapidly that the doctors pinned it on very aggressive cancer and called it a day.”

“Hm.” Daniel Elkins was letting all of this information fall into place when the world outside went silent. The wind stopped rustling the trees, the birds stopped singing, the insects stopped making noise.

Dean was the first to notice. “Sammy, do you hear that?”

“Hear what?”

“Exactly. Get the salt, now!” Sam ran to the car where they’d left the bags and jugs and gathered a bag of salt, spray paint, and a jug of holy water and ran back inside the cabin. He gave Dean the spray paint and Christa the salt as he set the jug down in the middle of the room.

A knock came on the cabin door and everybody froze. Elkins got up from his seat and strode to the door, looking even more perturbed than ever. “This one of y’all’s friends?”

“No! Don’t open it!” Sam shouted.

It was too late – Jess was standing in the doorway, her eyes black as night, and she grinned. “Nice to see you again, Daniel.”

“What?!”

She reached forward without crossing the salt barrier and began choking him. Daniel’s feet left the ground as she lifted him up by the neck.

Sam knocked the jug over trying to pour water into a bowl. Dean covered his Devil’s Trap with a rug and set about warding the rest of the cabin. Jess looked over at Sam and smiled wider, “Hi, lover. Miss me?”

“You’re not Jess,” he growled, picking up the bowl and splashing her in the face. The demon inside Jess screamed as the flesh sizzled and Daniel dropped to the ground as the telekinetic hold on him was broken. “ _Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursion infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregation et secta diabolica_ ,” Sam’s chant was cut off when Jess blasted him back into the cabin, hurling him into a wall.

Christa moved up, immediately picking up where Sam left off, standing in the middle of the Devil’s Trap that Dean had hidden. Jess blasted a path through the salt as Christa continued chanting from the piece of paper Sam had given her in the car on the way here. Once Jess was within arm’s reach, Christa jumped back and Dean stood next to her, joining on the last lines as Jess, enraged, screamed. “ _Ab insidiis diabolic, libera nos, Domine. Ut Ecclesiasm tuam secura tibi facias liberate servire, te rogamus, audi nos.”_ A black cloud evacuated Jess’s body and disappeared.

Jess’s body fell limp to the floor and Dean stepped forward to check her pulse.

Christa went over to Sam to wake him up. There was blood in his hair, but Christa couldn’t see a major wound. Sam came to and saw Jess’ body on the floor and ran over to her.

“She’s alive, but just barely.”

“We need to get her to a hospital.”

“We need the gun, Sammy!”

Sam glared at his brother and picked Jess up. “Then find it. I’m taking her to a hospital, Dean. I have to save her!”

Christa knew there was no persuading him otherwise and gave him her keys as he walked out the front door, leaving them behind with an unconscious Daniel Elkins.

“What do we do about him?” Christa asked.

“He’ll be fine. Close the door. The cabin is warded so we shouldn’t have any other issues. But we still need to find that damn gun.”

Christa tucked a flask of holy water into her back pocket before the two of them searched the house; eventually Dean found a locked safe in the basement. On it was painted sigils warding off both angels and demons. _No wonder Castiel couldn’t find the Colt,_ Dean thought. His second thought was, _how the hell are we going to open this?_

“I need a stethoscope,” Christa said. “I can crack it open if I have a stethoscope.”

“Well, Sam just left for the hospital in our only car.”

“I saw a truck on the side of the cabin. It looks like it still runs.”

“You can’t go, Christa. What if Lilith,” Dean began.

“Kills me? What if she kills you? What if she kills Sam? Castiel said she wasn’t at full-power, yet, Dean. The longer we argue, the more likely she finds us and kills us – all of us.”

Dean knew she was right and there was no point in arguing. “Fine. I’ll wait here with Elkins in case he wakes up. Come back alive.” He grabbed the back of her neck, pulled her to him, and kissed her hard.

Christa pulled away almost instantly. “I’ll be right back,” she said without conviction. Without letting Dean say anything else, she turned and fled up the stairs, grabbed the only set of keys by the door, and left the cabin.

* * *

Sam raced an unconscious, barely alive Jess to the UCHealth emergency room department. Upon entering, with Jess in his arms, he yelled for help. Several nurses hustled from around the front desk and grabbed a stretcher for her.

“What happened?”

“I’m not sure. She went unconscious and her pulse is faint. I need you to help her.”

“Are you her brother?”

“What? Yes,” Sam lied. He knew they wouldn’t let him see her without lying about being next of kin.

“Come on back,” the nurse waved him forward as she took Jess to a bed. Once there, more nurses hurriedly took her vitals and put an IV in her arm for fluids. “Okay, now we have to wait for a doctor. Does she have any allergies or conditions we need to know about?”

“I… I don’t think so. Nothing that I know of,” Sam said. “When will the doctor be here?”

“Shortly. Just be patient. She looks perfectly fine, so hopefully it’s nothing more than a mild reaction to something.”

“Right. Okay.” Sam sat down in the hard plastic chair by the bed and took one of Jess’ hands in his own. His phone buzzed and he pulled out of his pocket and opened his texts. _Christa en route – found gun – need stethoscope for safe- eta 5 mins_. Sam pocketed his phone and looked at Jess. He didn’t want to leave her, but he needed to create a distraction so Christa could get a stethoscope.

Four minutes later, he apologized to Jess and kissed her forehead, then disconnected her heart monitor. He ran out into the main emergency area and started yelling for help. Several nurses came running, leaving their station wide open.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw someone he assumed was Christa dash behind the desk. He trusted her to get out and get back on her own; his attention went back to Jessica even as an uneasy feeling settled in the pit of his stomach. If the demon possessing Jess had found them, already, it meant Lilith wouldn’t be far behind. Hopefully Christa could get back in time.

Christa snatched the first stethoscope she could reach and tucked it under her shirt – rather, Dean’s shirt – and high-tailed it back out of the hospital. The truck was left running and she hopped in and peeled out of the emergency area parking. She sent Dean a text update using voice-to-text as she sped through Fort Collins back to the outskirts where Elkins’ cabin was located.

She was about to turn on to the unnamed road leading to the cabin when a teenage girl walked in front of the truck. She screamed and hit the brakes as fast as she could. Never in her life had she been happier to be wearing a seat belt as the truck slammed to a stop like it had hit a brick wall going 40 miles per hour. The truck was equipped with an airbag that didn’t deploy until Christa’s face hit the steering wheel. It instantly knocked her out.

* * *

Dean paced the cabin and was glad Christa remembered to send him an update text. Minutes ticked by and he started to panic when he realized he should have heard the truck engine approaching. He pushed her name on his phone to call her.

* * *

Christa slowly woke up to the sound of her phone ringing somewhere distant. A trickle of blood meandered down her forehead and her neck felt like somebody had forced her to head bang for several hours. She suddenly remembered the girl and slowly climbed out of the truck.

The front of the truck was crumpled and standing in front of it was the girl, completely unharmed. Christa had no idea how that was possible but she called out to her anyway. “Hey! Are you okay?”

When the girl turned her head to Christa, Christa’s heart slammed down into her stomach. The girl’s eyes went completely white.

* * *

Dean called Christa’s phone for the third time, getting angrier and angrier every time it went to voicemail. He knew she was in trouble but he had no way of getting to her. He called Sam, instead.

He picked up on the fourth ring, “What is it?”

“Christa. She never came back to the cabin.”

Sam was silent. Dean could hear him breathing, obviously weighing his priorities. Voice thick with regret, Sam finally spoke up, “I can’t, Dean. I just can’t leave her.”

“God dammit, Sam! You can’t save her in every reality!”

“But I can do it here!” Sam yelled back as angry tears spilled out of his eyes. A couple nurses looked at him like he was crazy for screaming in the emergency ward.

“You don’t know that,” Dean said as his voice shook with rage. “Sam. Lilith has Christa.”

“It’s not our Christa. She took the risk. I’m sorry, Dean. You have to get her yourself.”

Dean threw his phone across the cabin and swore. It was time to get Daniel Elkins conscious. He didn’t have any smelling salts, so Dean got to work figuring out what he could do.

* * *

“Ah, Christa, is it? I was hoping to meet your counterpart. I hear she's,” Lilith paused, grinning toothily, "feisty."

“Back off demon bitch,” Christa muttered while she tried desperately to calm her shaking limbs.

“I’m not going to let you get to the Colt,” Lilith answered as she closed the distance between them.

“Fine, but you’re still getting fucking smoked,” Christa sneered. Lilith was in arm’s reach now and Christa turned around and started running as fast as she could.

Lilith rolled her eyes and sighed, “Why do they always run?” She let Christa get a good distance away before she telekinetically lifted Christa off the ground, holding her by the throat. As Christa choked, feet kicking at the air below her and fingers desperate to pry the invisible hand off her neck, Lilith once again closed the distance between them. “Pathetic. Where are your boys, hm? Not here to rescue you, either. Oh, I’m going to have so much fun with you. Hopefully Sam gets here in time to see you die.” Lilith’s eyes rolled back in her head and a white smoke evacuated from the girl’s mouth. Christa shut her eyes as the smoke came twirling directly for her.

* * *

Dean lifted Daniel’s feet above his head after checking for a pulse. He was alive and breathing with a fairly steady pulse. He had no idea why Elkins was still out cold. After a couple minutes, Daniel finally opened his eyes.

“Open your safe,” Dean demanded as he let his feet back down to the ground.

“What?”

“The safe. I need the Colt! Now!”

Elkins’ eyes went wide and he slowly sat up, recalling what had happened. Dean helped him to his feet and bore his weight as they went into the basement together.

* * *

Lilith’s true form couldn’t find a way into Christa’s body with the new anti-possession tattoo. Enraged, she flew back into her previous vessel and tightened her grip on Christa’s neck.

Christa knew she only had moments left before she blacked out or died. Barely able to move her fingers, she forced one arm behind her and she worked the flask out of her pocket.

Lilith hissed, “After I kill you, I’m going to kill Dean Winchester as I make Sam watch! Again. I’ll send him back to Hell and then Sam will join him when I’m done torturing him. He’ll be begging me to put him on the rack after I’m done with him.”

Somehow finding the strength despite feeling the slip towards unconsciousness, Christa flicked the cap off the flask with her thumb and with one last effort, she swung her arm forward, dousing Lilith’s vessel with holy water.

It was enough. Lilith loosened her grasp around Christa’s neck as she screamed in pain and Christa gasped for air.


	8. The Damage is Done

“She has a lot of internal trauma – bleeding, mostly. But nothing too serious with her major organs. She needs to stay here overnight and we’ll do more imaging tomorrow. Clots are our biggest issue, so we’ll be giving her blood thinning pain relievers. Nothing much else we can do until she comes out of her coma.”

“Thanks, Doc.” Sam’s eyes went to Jess again and he swallowed a lump in his throat. He’d made his choice and he was going to see it through. He’d just have to figure out what to do about it later – if he survived Lilith. The thought of Christa – his Christa – and possibly losing her broke his heart almost as much as Jess’ death did in 2005. Filled with anguish, Sam ran his hands through his hair as fresh tears ran down his face. He went back to her bedside and kissed her forehead. “I’m so sorry Jess,” he cried as he put his forehead against hers. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save you this time.”

* * *

“Sneaky bitch!” Lilith screamed and Christa gasped for air, desperately filling her lungs as the demon continued holding her above the ground. “I guess you want a taste of what I’ll do to Dean, hm?” Lilith’s eyes went white again and she grinned as she started squeezing Christa’s ribcage.

Christa’s floating ribs snapped first. She screamed in agony and she fought to stay conscious. When her eighth and ninth ribs cracked, she blacked out.

Lilith chuckled and released her hold on Christa’s ribcage. She brought her back to consciousness easily enough and relished Christa screaming in pain yet again. “Maybe I’ll set my hellhounds on you the way I did to Dean. Pity he isn’t here to see it. But first,” Lilith trailed off, enjoying the look of pure pain and fear in Christa’s eyes. “Hmm, so many joints and bones and tendons and… oops.”

Christa felt her left Achilles tendon rip and she bit back another scream as tears streamed down her face. She wouldn’t scream for Lilith again. She cried silently, staring at the demon defiantly.

“Ugh. You're no fun.” Lilith’s invisible reach grazed Christa’s neck and then slapped her face.

It felt like getting hit in the face with a rock. Christa spat blood but she didn’t scream. She wouldn’t scream until she dragged Lilith back to hell.

* * *

Daniel opened the safe and retrieved the gun for Dean with shaking hands. “Here. Take it. Get this cursed object away from me and never come back,” he whispered.

Dean opened the chambers and saw six silver bullets that were numbered eight through thirteen. He snapped the chamber shut and left the house without saying a word. He’d have to find Christa and Lilith on foot, so he started to run down the unnamed road towards town.

* * *

Lilith smirked as she heard the roar of a car engine approaching from the south. “Looks like the cavalry is here,” she said and sent another invisible knife into Christa’s shoulder, severing more than a few ligaments.

Christa was almost numb with pain but she felt the stab and groaned; it was getting harder to withhold vocalizing her pain. Christa fought with her entire being to stay conscious.

As her gray Impala came over the hill, Christa couldn’t help but smile. Lilith saw it and twisted the stabbing pain in her shoulder. The Impala slammed to a stop twenty feet away and just as Sam got out of the car, Lilith twisted again. Christa couldn’t stop herself – she screamed and sobbed.

“Put her down, you bitch,” Sam said as he approached. He knew he just signed his death warrant coming here without the Colt – or Dean – but he didn’t care. Christa was suspended several feet off the ground and she was bleeding from her mouth; Sam also saw blood dripping from her shoulder and the back of her leg.

“Finally, Sam Winchester appears!” Lilith exclaimed and threw Christa off to the side. Christa’s body hit a thick ash tree and she crumbled to the ground, succumbing to the blackness at the edge of her vision. “Where’s big brother, hm? I was so hoping I could kill him again in front of you. It was so much fun, last time! And you’re unarmed? How unfortunate.”

“Lilith. I’m going to take you to hell with me and make sure you stay there.”

The possessed young woman laughed heartily. “I look forward to it! But first, why don’t you consider working for me? We can destroy this world – and others – together. We’ll be unstoppable.”

“Never. _Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalais adversarii_ ,” Sam began reciting the exorcism hoping to buy some time. He had no idea where Dean was or if he’d managed to get the Colt.

Lilith laughed again and Sam didn’t know what was happening before two demons came up behind him and grabbed him. They held his arms behind his back as he struggled to free himself, the exorcism rite completely forgotten.

“I brought you a gift, Samuel. Something to remind you of old times.” Lilith approached, a large glass vial appearing in her upturned hand. “You look thirsty,” she hissed as she forced his mouth open. She opened the vial and tilted it into his mouth. “Demon blood – your favorite.”

Sam couldn’t close his mouth but he refused to swallow and sputtered as the blood pooled in his mouth. Lilith held his nostrils shut, forcing him to either breathe or suffocate. Determined to not let her win, Sam refused to gasp for air. “You’ll swallow sooner or later, Sam,” Lilith threatened.

Dean approached the intersection of the cabin road and the next road leading into town and slowed down. He heard laughter and ducked into the trees by the side of the main road. Quietly, he made his way to where Lilith was force-feeding Sam what Dean could only assume was demon blood. The relief he felt that Sam showed up turned into anger that boiled over inside of him and he almost rushed out when something on the ground caught his eye. The rage inside of him grew as he realized it was Christa sprawled out at the base of a huge ash tree. Her neck wasn’t broken but she was barely breathing and there was blood everywhere. Dean gently grabbed her under her arms and dragged her back behind the tree line. He inspected her wounds and checked her pulse. It was weak but palpable. He kissed her forehead and stood up, standing behind the tree for cover.

“And I was afraid Dean would miss our little show,” Lilith was saying.

As if on cue, she whipped around and hurled a blinding light directly at Dean. He ducked behind the tree and covered his head – the sound was like a lightning strike. His ears rang and he knew he had no time to waste. Dazed, he took a breath to steady himself and pulled the hammer back on the Colt.

Lilith was grinning; Dean could hear it in her voice. Sam was choking, trying to cough up the demon’s blood. “I brought a gift for you, too, Dean. Girls.”

Dean swallowed as he heard the familiar growl of hellhounds somewhere nearby. He had no time to drag this out. Taking a chance, he held the Colt with his finger on the trigger and walked out from behind the tree. The growling grew louder but Dean took a deep breath and exhaled as he squeezed the trigger.

As soon as the trigger depressed, Dean felt a pressure hit him square in the chest as Lilith sent him flying backwards into the same ash tree she’d flung to Christa into. The wind was knocked out of him and he could almost see the outlines of the hellhounds, now. He raised the gun again and fired another bullet. Lilith deflected it, easily.

Four bullets to go. A hellhound bit into Dean’s calf.

Sam knew he had to drink some of the blood to get free. He swallowed a mouthful and felt it course through his veins, burning as it went. He closed his eyes and focused on pulling the two demons from the bodies holding him. Near the trees, he heard Dean yell and a hellhound snarl.

Within moments, the demons on either side of him vaporized. Lilith spun around, confident her hounds would take care of Dean Winchester, and smiled at Sam. “See? That wasn’t so bad, was it?” He glared at her and focused his energy on pulling her out but found he was blocked. His shock was evident on his face. Lilith chuckled and caressed the side of Sam’s face. “Not this time, Sam. I’m much stronger, now.”

Two more gunshots went off as Dean desperately tried to hit the hounds. A loud whine and whimper followed the second shot – he’d gotten one.

Two bullets remained.

Sam knew he had to keep distracting Lilith so Dean could get a shot in. The older Winchester screamed again as the remaining hellhound bit into his shoulder, pulling him back to the ground. Sam didn’t let his eyes leave Lilith.

He slowly smiled at her, covering her hand on his cheek with his own. “God this feels good,” he lied. “I feel… alive again. Finally.” Lilith was smiling softly at him and Sam swallowed his bile and kissed her. Her arms wrapped around him as she kissed him back. Blood smeared across both of their chins.

Another gunshot – another whimper and whine as the second hellhound went down.

Without even turning around, Lilith flicked her wrist and shoved Dean against the tree trunk, holding him in place as she slowly squeezed his heart.

Christa stirred and woke up slowly, her head pounding. She coughed and immediately regretted it as her broken ribs moved. She rolled on to her back, wincing, and heard a gun go off very close by. _Dean_ , was her first thought. The pain was so intense, she had no idea if she could even sit up; she rolled onto her side and forced herself up using her good arm. Christa almost blacked out again with the effort. She slowly turned her head, looking for Dean, and saw him pinned to a tree several feet away, trying to aim the Colt. His face was contorted in agony, his lips looked blue, and Christa thought of nothing else than trying to help him. She stood up, swallowing a sob as pain wracked her body, and began limping towards Dean. Blackness edged into her vision once again.

Dean felt the agonizing pressure on his heart. The hellhound bites were nothing compared to what he felt as Lilith literally squeezed the life out of him. He saw movement out of the corner of his eye and turned towards it – Christa was limping towards him bruised and bloodied.

 _Stay back!_ He tried to mouth to her. She was either stubborn or couldn’t understand him because she kept coming. Dean grimaced and turned back to Lilith and Sam. The sight of his brother making out with a demon was enough to make him want to die – he couldn’t believe Sam had given up so easily. Slowly, he lifted the Colt, struggling to breathe and stay conscious. Darkness was clouding his vision and his aim was wobbly. His arm dropped to his side as he slipped into unconsciousness.

Christa dragged herself out of the trees and knelt down – in agonizing pain – to retrieve the Colt. She saw Dean had left her exactly one bullet. Taking a steady, painful breath, she gripped the wooden handle of the Colt in both hands, aiming it directly at Lilith. Her finger squeezed the trigger.

Lilith and Sam heard the gun fire. He had enough power to subdue her abilities slightly and she couldn’t deflect the bullet. Her eyes went wide as the bullet pierced the flesh of her vessel. An ethereal scream came from her mouth as she lit up inside; Lilith was vaporized by the thirteenth bullet. Sam let go and the vessel crumpled to the ground. Dean also fell to the ground by the ash tree.

Christa dropped the empty Colt. The jolt of firing it made her want to vomit with pain but she focused on Dean’s unconscious body beside her. He didn’t have a pulse.

“Sam,” Christa cried softly, “Sam, please help.” She was trying to lay Dean’s body flat on the ground as Sam came running over. “No pulse,” Christa wheezed; blood trickled out of her mouth.

Alarmed at her condition, Sam didn’t comprehend what she said to him. She repeated herself, looking like she was barely holding on to consciousness herself. He reached out to her and gently touched her swollen cheek before he wiped the remaining blood off his mouth. “Hold on, Chris. I’ve got you.” Sam knelt down over Dean and began administering CPR.

Christa sat back on her shins, her eyes barely open, as Sam did chest compressions. On the third round of compressions, Dean inhaled sharply and came to. Christa collapsed as Dean’s eyes opened.

* * *

“Weren’t you just in here?!” The head nurse yelled as Sam carried Christa into the emergency room. Dean limped in behind him, his wounds throbbing. She ran out from behind the desk and Sam gave her his signature puppy dog eyes.

“Please. She was in a terrible car accident. I came upon it leaving the city.” Sam wasn’t necessarily lying, he was just omitting the details.

“And what happened to him?!” She pointed at Dean as another nurse rolled over a stretcher. Sam put Christa on it, much like he did Jess not even two hours ago.

“Went through the windshield,” Dean said and winced as a nurse pushed him into a wheelchair.

“Does she have any allergies?” The nurse asked.

“Tree nuts,” Sam said – almost too quickly.

The nurse gave him A Look but took over pushing Dean’s wheelchair just behind Christa’s stretcher. “You wait out here, this time, son.”

Sam tried to argue but he just collapsed into a chair and went numb. He shuddered as the demon blood coursed through his veins, bringing back all-too-familiar feelings and painful memories.

* * *

“Your brother,” the nurse paused, looking at Sam skeptically, “is going to be fine. He says he went through the windshield but the wounds on him look remarkably like dog bites.” She gave Sam another disbelieving look. “We gave him fluids and a few stitches before bandaging his wounds. He’s lucky he wasn’t injured any deeper – could have had serious muscle and nerve damage.”

“And Christa?”

The nurse pursed her lips and took a breath. “She has several broken ribs and her Achilles tendon is severed. She also has a very deep wound in her shoulder that will take extensive repair and physical therapy.” Her eyes narrowed, “She wasn’t in a car accident, young man.”

Sam opened his mouth to protest but the nurse held up a hand to shush him.

“I don’t need your explanations. You’ve brought in two unconscious women in one day and a man who denies being bitten by anything. We’ll get them fixed up. If I ever see you again,” the nurse said, her voice getting lower, “I will call the police. So make sure you leave after we discharge the two you just hauled in and don’t come back.”

“What about Jessica?”

The nurse studied his face and sighed. “She’s in a coma, son. The doctors don’t know when she’ll come out of it but they are hopeful.” She lowered her voice again, “We contacted her family and they’d never heard of a ‘Sam.’ So, like I said earlier,”

“Yeah, yeah. Get out of town. Right.”

The nurse eyed him again. “Might want to wash your face, Sam. I’ll come get you when the woman is out of surgery.”

“Thank you,” Sam whispered.

The nurse shook her head and walked away down the hall, leaving Sam alone in the waiting room with a dozen other people. He got up after a few moments and found the bathroom – his chin and neck were still covered in blood.

* * *

Dean was discharged first. He grinned at Sam as he was wheeled down the hall and Sam stood up as he approached. “Hey, how are you?”

“Just great, Sammy. Feeling right as rain,” he said sarcastically with a big grin on his face. Sam’s face dropped and he shifted awkwardly. “Hey, look. You got there before I did. You did what you could.”

“I let her get Christa, Dean,” Sam whispered as he started choking up again.

“I let her go to begin with. That should’ve been me, Sam. I fucked up.”

Sam shook his head and swallowed hard. “I should’ve left as soon as you called. But I chose Jessica. I could have stopped Lilith.”

“Not alone you couldn’t,” Dean snapped, keeping his voice low. “It doesn’t matter – she’s alive.” He and his brother met each other’s eyes, both seeming to silently ask the same question. Dean shook his head and closed his eyes. “I guess Cas will find a way to get us back to our world sooner rather than later.”

Sam put a comforting hand on Dean’s unbitten shoulder. They sat in silence for a moment and then Sam dropped his hand. “Hey, at least you’ll have a wild story to tell Christa – uh, the other Christa.”

Dean smirked a little bit. “Think she’d believe it?”

Sam grunted, a smile teasing his lips. “Probably not.”

* * *

“Hey, you,” Christa whispered as Dean limped into her hospital room that night.

“Hey yourself,” Dean replied, smiling down at her as he stood by her bed. “How’re you feeling?”

Christa smirked and closed her eyes, wincing as she shifted, “Like a million fucking bucks, Winchester.” Her eyes opened again and she gazed into his.

“I’m sorry I let you go alone,” Dean whispered as he brushed some of her hair away from her face. There were a couple stitches in her forehead; her injured arm was in a sling and Dean could only imagine how many other bandages and stitches she had that he couldn’t see.

Christa smiled up at him with a split lip, obviously doped up. “You didn’t have a choice. I would’ve gone anyway. I guess I have a hero complex or something.” She stared up at him and they were silent for a couple moments. “God, you’re beautiful,” she finally said.

Dean smirked down at her. “Look who’s talking,” he replied. His heart grew heavy with the thought of leaving her behind and returning to his own world where he couldn’t just start over with Christa. Too much history and too many years sat between them.

His sadness must have shown on his face because Christa suddenly frowned and reached up to touch his cheek with her good hand. “How much time do you have?”

Somewhat startled, Dean just stared at her. Her ability to pretty much read his mind – both Christas, actually – would always surprise him. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “Probably not long.”

“Asshole angel hasn’t been by?”

A smile graced his face at her insult for Castiel. “Not yet.”

“Well when he appears, tell him I said ‘you’re welcome.’” Christa smiled back at Dean. He bent down more to place a chaste kiss on her lips.

“Will do, sweetheart.”

“Dean. Winchester.”

“Sorry! Sorry.”

Christa rolled her eyes, unable to hide her amusement.

“I’ll be back in a little while, okay? I think Sam and I are getting a motel room close by. We won’t be far, okay?”

Christa nodded. “Great, but my cell phone is in the truck, which is surely impounded by now.”

Dean stood up and fished her phone out of his back pocket and handed it to her. “Already took care of that. Elkins had the truck towed back to his cabin, said you were his niece. Filed a police report that it was a hit-and-run.”

“That’s one way of putting it,” Christa winced as she shifted again. “What’d you tell the nurses, anyway? A rabid dog ran up and bit you?”

“I told them I went through the windshield.”

Christa made a skeptical humming noise, eyes narrowing at Dean. “I bet they really believed that.”

Dean shrugged, “What matters is you’re okay.” He leaned down to kiss her again just before a nurse walked in to check on Christa.

“You know if you guys are going to lie about being siblings, maybe don’t be smooching on each other so much,” the nurse commented. Dean stood up and flashed her a very charming smile.

“We’re a close-knit family.” He winked at her and then looked at Christa again. “See you in awhile. If you need anything, call me.”

“Will do, brother.” Christa wrinkled her nose after the word left her mouth. Dean chuckled and kissed her forehead before he left the room.

The nurse rolled her eyes. “Some good-looking brothers you got there, darling.”

“Yeah. They’re super hot.” Christa agreed. The nurse just laughed as she took Christa’s vitals and gave her another small dose of painkillers.

“You just rest up, sweetie. We’ll have you out of here as soon as the doctor clears you.”

**DAY ELEVEN**

The next morning, Christa was wheeled off to the MRI machine for another brain scan, just to ensure her brain wasn’t swelling or damaged. The doctor gave her a pretty good prognosis and said she would be discharged that evening if everything checked out.

Shortly after she was back in her room, Dean and Sam walked in holding coffees and donuts.

“Give me!” Christa demanded, reaching out for the coffee with her good arm.

“Two and a half creams, just like you like it,” Sam announced and handed her a coffee.

The noise she made as she drank the coffee was somewhere near the sexual end of the spectrum. Dean smirked and set the box of donuts next to her bed and within reach. “Thank you so much,” Christa finally said. Sam leaned over to kiss her forehead and then Dean pulled up a chair and sat beside her.

“So what’s the deal? When are we busting you outta here?” Dean asked.

Christa bit into a donut, her eyes rolling back in her head. She hadn’t had solid food in over a day and the taste of fried sugar was heaven. “Doctor said sometime this evening if everything looks okay,” she said around a mouthful of glazed delight.

Sam rolled his eyes. “You’re picking up Dean’s bad habits, Chris.”

Christa fake glared at Sam and shoved the rest of the donut into her mouth. “Don’t judge me,” she said with her mouth full. Dean just chuckled and shrugged as Sam made a disgusted face and sipped his coffee.

“Hello, boys,” head nurse Dixon announced as she walked in. “Nobody’s making out with their sister? Good. Let’s see here.” She picked up Christa’s chart and then eyed the coffee in her hand. “You really shouldn’t be drinking that, but I didn’t see anything.”

Christa grinned widely at the nurse and then took a small sip before passing it off to Dean. “Drinking what?”

“Good girl,” Nurse Dixon muttered as she scanned her chart. “Discharge later today as long as you feel okay. You had a pretty bad concussion.” The nurse’s eyes went from Sam to Dean and back to Christa. “Which means you need to be resting and not distracted by these ‘brothers’ of yours. Fifteen minutes, gentlemen. Then out you go.”

“Yes ma’am,” Sam and Dean chorused. The nurse gave them another look and left the room, shutting the door behind her.

Christa popped one more donut into her mouth as the guys discussed the trip back to Kansas. Christa merely listened and waited for one of them to tell her they would be leaving her to drive back to Atlanta because Castiel was going to zap them back to their reality. Much to her surprise, it was never brought up and she certainly didn’t want to ask, so she asked them what their plans were when they got back to Kansas.

“I figured we’d stop in Lebanon, clean up the bunker a bit, and then head back to Lawrence,” Dean stated.

“You won’t have to help us, obviously,” Sam quickly added.

Christa rolled her eyes, “I’m not an invalid, Sam. I have one working arm and one working leg, jeeze.”

Sam grinned and shrugged. “I’m going to go see Jess for a moment before we leave.”

“Are they keeping her here?” Christa asked. “I mean, are they sending her back to Georgia or?”

“They called her parents. They’re on the way here. I guess they’ll decide how to get her home after talking with the doctor.” Sam’s free hand went into his jeans pocket. Christa noticed he did that more often when he felt awkward or uncomfortable.

She gave him a big smile, “I’m sure her parents would be thankful that you brought her here.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” Sam muttered. “I kind of lied and said I was her brother, so when they called her parents,” he shrugged as he let the sentence trail off.

“Ah. Well, they’re very nice folks. I’m sure if they knew you, they’d understand. You’re a wonderful guy, Sam. Anybody would be lucky to have you.”

Sam looked at Christa’s sincere smiling face and smiled back, nodding his thanks. “Dean, I’ll meet you outside in ten.”

Dean’s eyes studied Christa’s features and he set his jaw.

“What’s wrong, babe?”

“You just look so much like her.”

Christa laughed lightly and winced at the pain it caused. “I am her, dummy. Just… you know. Here instead of there.”

Dean nodded in agreement. “You’re both stubborn as fuck, too.”

Christa laughed a little harder – and winced a lot harder. “Shut the fuck up, Winchester. You’re going to make them prolong my stay here.”

“Sorry,” he said as his eyes darkened a little bit. “We can’t have that because I want to do so many things to you,” he absently licked his lips and let that thought hang in the air between them.

Christa felt her body react to everything that he just said and did – a small coil of heat formed between her legs. “Like what?” She pressed, sliding his hand under the blanket and guiding it down towards her sex.

Dean’s eyes flicked down her body before settling on her face again, “Like take these stitches out,” he teased. Her hand pulled his between her legs and he moved her gown aside.

“And?” Christa breathed as she felt his fingers graze her folds.

“And change your bandages,” Dean replied, his eyes darkening more as he slowly rubbed her slit.

Christa let out a soft moan and closed her eyes, “Dean,” she breathed.

“Mm?”

“I don’t know how I’m going to live without you,” she admitted through a clenched jaw, trying not to let her hips buck as he teased her. Her heart monitor’s beeping increased in frequency.

He didn’t know what to say to that, so he stood up and leaned down, kissing her deeply as he pushed a finger into her very gently. She moaned into his mouth and he had to remember she had several broken ribs. Dean slid his tongue into her mouth as he pushed another finger into her. Her noises were driving him crazy and he pulled his hand out from under the blanket before they got too carried away. The nurse seeing him kiss his supposed sister was one thing – to see his hand under the blanket between her legs was another.

She whimpered and pulled away from his mouth, her forehead creased in frustration. “Don’t stop,” she pleaded, staring up into his eyes.

“Christa, I can’t. You’re hurt.”

“You can make me feel better,” she urged.

Dean shook his head slowly and she bit back a groan. “I promise I’ll make it up to you, kitten,” he whispered and kissed her forehead.

Christa nodded slowly and sighed. Right then, the nurse knocked twice and then swung the door open.

“Come on in,” Dean said sarcastically.

“Visiting time is over, sweet cheeks,” the nurse said dryly.

Dean gazed down at Christa and kissed the tip of her nose. “We’ll bust you out in a little bit, okay?”

“Okay. Bye, Dean.”

“Bye swee—Christa.”

Nurse Dixon watched him leave and then made an approving noise in her throat. “I swear that boy is the finest thing I’ve seen in awhile. Now, as for you and your heart monitor,” she said, fixing a stern gaze on Christa. “Keep it to a normal pace, hm?”

Christa’s face turned pink and she nodded, too embarrassed to speak.

“Okay. Get some rest; see you in a couple hours for lunch.”

The day dragged by agonizing slowly. Dean spent a lot of it washing Christa’s Impala by hand since he was driving it for the time being. Christa spent most of it sleeping, trying to get comfortable without agitating her ribs.

Around 7pm, she texted Dean to get her the hell out of there. Ten minutes later, her freshly cleaned Impala pulled up in front of the hospital doors and she was wheeled out to meet the guys.

“Take care of yourself,” nurse Dixon said softly. “And those boys. They look like they need it.”

Christa smiled and squeezed her hand as she helped her up out of the wheelchair. Dean came jogging around the car as Sam stepped out and opened the back door. Christa winced as Dean helped her into the backseat but she managed to get in very slowly. “Getting me outta this thing is gonna be a pain,” she muttered as Dean shut the door. “How are you, Sammy?”

Sam had gotten back in the car and was looking at the hospital, obviously thinking about Jess. “Hm? Oh, I’m fine. You doing okay?”

“Peachy.”


	9. Don't Let Go

They got her into the motel room and Dean tried to make her lie down.

“For fuck’s sake, Dean! What do you think I’ve been doing the past two days?! Fuck off. Let me stand for awhile. I need a shower.”

He backed off, hands at shoulder height signaling his acquiescence. “Fine. Let’s cover those bandages. He used duct tape and plastic shopping bags and then helped her get out of his button-up shirt. He backed off again when she got frustrated and demanded he let her do it on her own.

“You won’t be here to help me, so just… let me do it,” Christa said without even trying to hide the anger in her voice. She limped into the bathroom and shut the door. Once inside, she leaned against the door and tried to swallow her tears. Everything hurt. Why did she have to try to be the damn hero? Why didn’t she stay put and let the brothers handle it? _Because Dean got himself killed, that’s why_ , Christa thought to herself. Sniffling, she slowly and painfully removed her shirt and bra then started on her jeans. When they refused to come off past her calves, she let hot tears of frustration and pain fall from her eyes. To mask the sound of her crying, she turned on the shower and then gently sat on the toilet lid; her torso screamed in pain as she scissored her legs to get the jeans off. Her underwear came off much easier and she gingerly stepped into the shower.

Soaping herself was fine – one hand was enough. But when it came time to wash her hair, she almost screamed in resentment. After taking a few breaths to calm herself, she leaned out of the shower and called for Dean through the closed door.

A soft knock came at the door before it opened a crack. “Christa?” It was Sam.

Christa sighed, “Yeah, Sam?”

“Dean went to go get food. He said he’d be back in a few minutes.”

She sighed again, unable to keep a sob from escaping her mouth.

“Are you okay? Can I… can I help with anything?”

“I can’t even wash my own hair,” she blurted out, not bothering to hide her crying.

Sam was silent and then she heard the door shut. _He probably went to go text Dean_ , she thought, crying harder. So she was surprised when Sam pushed the curtain aside, his eyes squeezed shut. “I’ll help you. You just have to… you know, tell me what to do.”

The sight of him made Christa smile and she laughed through her tears. “Sam, really? You’ve seen all of this before, right?”

His eyes stayed closed while his brows knit together. “Well, yes and no.”

“Sam. It’s fine. Here.” She put a small bottle in his hand and he blindly opened it. “Jesus, Sam, you’re going to make a mess. Just open your damn eyes!”

The younger Winchester sighed deeply and opened his eyes but pointedly looked not directly at her. “Okay. Can you move, uh, I guess closer?”

Christa slowly backed up towards him, tilting her head back. He gently worked the shampoo into her hair and Christa could tell he was having a somewhat difficult time. “Never washed anyone else’s hair, huh?”

“This is definitely a first.”

She stepped away from him to rinse and then handed him conditioner. He repeated the process and she rinsed off as he left the bathroom.

Dean’s eyebrows shot up in an accusatory manner when Sam emerged from the bathroom. “What the hell’s going on in there?”

“She couldn’t wash her hair.”

“Oh so you just went in there to help,” Dean said doubtingly.

“Uh, yeah, Dean, I did. She called for you. You weren’t here. I thought she might have hurt herself or something.”

The water shut off and Dean tossed the bag of food onto the small desk and strode into the bathroom without even knocking.

Christa was just reaching for a towel when the curtain snapped open, startling her half to death. “Jesus! Dean!” She held the towel up and covered her tear-streaked face but it was too late, Dean had noticed she’d been crying.

“You can do it yourself, huh?” He asked, not really expecting an answer from her.

“I tried. Turns out, it’s really hard to wash hair with only one hand.”

“So you just had Sam help you?”

Christa lowered the towel and glared at the obviously jealous older Winchester. “I do not belong to you, Dean. Your brother helped me because I needed it and asked him for it. You weren’t here. End of story.”

Dean saw the fire in her eyes as she spoke to him and was reminded again of how very much she was a mirror image of the Christa Edelwood he’d known most of his life. “You… I mean, you couldn’t have just waited?”

“Grow up.” Christa said, awkwardly trying to wrap herself in the towel with only one useful arm.

Dean ran his hand through his hair. “Fine. I’m sorry.” He turned to leave.

“Wait,” Christa snapped. Dean stood with his hand on the doorknob, ready to leave the instant she started laying into him. “I need help getting dressed,” she said quietly.

They didn’t get much farther than getting her underwear on before Dean remembered he had unfinished business with her and stood up, sliding his hand into the front of her underwear. She sighed and looked down, watching his hand as he slid it between her legs and began teasing her. A small sigh escaped her lips and he leaned in to kiss her.

He wasted no time inserting two fingers into her and found her clit with his thumb. Gently holding her against him with her back to the sink, he tended to her wants and needs with his hand and his mouth.

Her lips and tongue moved against his with a familiar sense of desire and urgency. Dean swallowed moan after moan as she lost herself in the pleasure he was giving her.

Suddenly she was coming; tears fell as she squeezed her eyes shut and clenched her jaw while her entire body shook with her orgasm. She managed to not scream but it clearly physically hurt her not to. When the shaking subsided, he held her in his arms and let her catch her breath. “Fuck, Dean,” she breathed against his shoulder.

He stroked her wet hair and felt no residual jealousy from earlier. They worked together to get her back into her clothes, despite Dean’s protests, and emerged from the bathroom with Christa putting most of her weight on him as she limped.

“All done fighting?” Sam asked after swallowing a mouthful of food.

Christa managed to blush as Dean smirked and grabbed the bag, pulling a burger out for Christa.

**DAY TWELVE**

They were on the road the next morning. Sam gave Christa the front seat since it was easier for her to get in and out of – and he liked napping in the back, anyway.

It was almost dark by the time they reached Lebanon. Dean pulled up to the power plant, parked the car, and gently woke up Christa before he yelled at Sam that they were there.

The key Christa had given him before they left for Colorado was still in his pocket. He used it to open the secret door and helped Christa down the stairs and into his room.

“What? I don’t get my own room?” Christa teased.

“Be my guest,” Dean quipped back, moving aside to let her leave.

She didn’t.

It took less than a day to clean up the bunker in order to leave it the way they found it. Dean took the key with him, to leave behind in case their alternate versions of themselves should choose to check it out.

They headed back to the garage in Lawrence. Sam helped Christa up the stairs as Dean went into the open bay to check on work progress. The Plymouth was finished and the Buick was close to being done. Satisfied that the guys didn’t need him around, he walked outside to go upstairs.

Miranda was leaning against Sam’s Mustang and she approached Dean when he walked out. “Dean Winchester, we need to talk.” Caught off-guard, Dean’s head snapped up and he saw her. She blocked his way into the apartment and folded her arms over her chest. “Something you need to tell me?” She asked.

“No?”

“Where the hell have you been? Your mom hasn’t heard from you, Sam hasn’t been home, and his car’s been parked outside your garage for almost a week, now.”

“Roadtrip. Colorado. Went to see an uncle.” He smiled at her quickly, as if to say she should be satisfied with that answer.

“Bullshit, Dean! Stop lying to me!”

“I thought we were done. Why does it matter where I was? Go home, Miranda. There’s nothing for you, here.”

She glared at him and he moved around her, letting himself into the stairwell. She followed him all the way to the top. Dean turned around at the door to his apartment, “What do you need, Miranda?! I already told you where we were.”

“I have stuff in there. Let me get my stuff.”

“No. I’ll box it up for you and leave it at your place.”

“What are you hiding, hm?” She pushed him aside and he was surprised at her strength as he caught the railing to keep from falling down the stairs. Miranda shoved the door open before he could intercept and let herself in. “Is there another woman here?” Her voice echoed down the stairs and Dean ran inside after her.

Sam was on the couch with Christa on his lap. They both looked like they were deer caught in the headlights; Dean felt his blood boil a little but he stayed outwardly calm. It was probably the best thing Miranda could have walked in on. “Oh! Sam. Sorry? What are you…? Why are you here?”

“My place is getting fumigated. Oh, hey Dean, didn’t think you’d be home so soon.” Sam flashed his brother a smile as Christa stiffly climbed off his lap. “What’s going on? You guys getting back together?”

“She still has stuff here, apparently,” Dean scoffed. Miranda rolled her eyes and went into the bedroom and returned moments later, holding a lace night gown.

“Say goodbye to this, Dean, ‘cause you’ll never see me in it again.”

“I never saw you in it before,” he muttered under his breath while covering his mouth. “Bye.” Dean said, louder, and gave a sarcastic little wave.

Miranda’s jaw clenched and she pushed past him and stormed down the stairs.

“That was it? A single nightie?” Christa said as an expression of bewilderment took over her face.

Dean shut the door and looked at Sam, then to Christa, and back to Sam. “Somebody wanna tell me what I walked in on?”

Christa smirked and thought Dean wore his jealousy well. “We heard you two arguing outside. The entire conversation. So we improvised when we heard her in the stairwell.” Dean’s gaze dropped to the floor and his face went blank. “You had no idea who she was, did you? You just got dropped into a relationship that you had no idea existed and you dumped her. What happens when the other Dean comes back and finds her gone?”

Dean crossed his arms over his chest and shrugged. “I don’t know. I do know that I didn’t like her. At all. The Dean from this world must have settled or something if he put up with _that_.”

“As much fun as this sounds, I have to get to the office today. I’ve missed a lot of meetings and people might think I’m dead.” He kissed Christa’s forehead as he stood up and clapped Dean on the shoulder before he left.

“Are you going back down to the garage?” Christa asked quietly after a moment of silence between them.

Dean walked to the fridge and got out two beers, shaking his head in the negative. “They can handle it. Besides, what if you want to wash your hair again?” He sat next to her and smirked as she took one of the beers from him.

Christa fell asleep before him that night. Dean thought it odd Castiel was suddenly not making inconvenient appearances in his life but was glad he could spend more time with Christa. Around one in the morning, he quietly climbed out of bed and went to the kitchen. He found a paper pad and pencil and wrote his other self a note, just in case.

               _Dear Me,_  
_Heh, that’s weird._  
_So I guess you’re probably pretty messed up by now. I didn’t have a choice in where I ended up – just like you had no choice in replacing me. My world is pretty fucked, I know. I hope you can get back to a somewhat normal life, here. Speaking of which – sorry about Miranda. I don’t know what you saw in her but I dumped her. She was a total witch, man. Win her back if you want. Mom/Mary said you were going to propose – DON’T!!!! I mean come on. Think it over, at least. Anyway, I know a woman who’d be perfect for you. I’m leaving her phone number for you. Highly suggest you call. She got caught up in me and Sam’s_ _business over here, so she’s seen some shit, too. Her name is Christa Edelwood and she is_  
_well…_  
_she’s amazing. I’ll let you figure out the rest._  
_Oh, and if you didn’t already have plans to – see Sam more. You’re brothers and you’re all each other have. Also, Bobby Singer in Nebraska would like to see more of you both. He’s your god father. And look up Ellen Harvelle – she owns a roadhouse in western Nebraska and was a friend of Mom’s way back when._  
_Last thing – this key is to the bunker in Lebanon. It’s under a power plant just outside of town on the river. We cleaned it up for you in case you decide to v_ isit.  
_OK, I guess that’s all for now._  
_Sorry about everything, again._  
_See ya round (or not),_  
_Dean W._

Once that was done, he climbed back into bed next to Christa and closed his eyes.

* * *

The sound of horns blaring and a police siren startled Dean awake. He sat up quickly and his elbow hit the steering wheel. Utterly vexed, he blinked several times and took in his surroundings. He was inside the Impala parked somewhere off a major road in an empty lot.

Sam had also sat up, almost bashing his head on the ceiling of the car as he did so.

“Dean? Where are we?”

“I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore, Sammy.” Dean squinted against the glare of the sun and stepped out of his car. He was in the jeans and tee shirt he was wearing at the apartment in Lawrence before he went to bed. The Impala was black and Dean felt for the keys in his pocket. They were there. He popped open the trunk as Sam got out of the backseat and inside lay all of their weapons and items needed for hunting. “Holy shit. We’re really not in Kansas anymore.”

Sam pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and unlocked it. “Yep. It seems we’re off Earth-2. And only one day has passed, somehow.”

“So we really were in another reality and we really did kill Lilith again,” Dean said slowly. The memories of that reality came flooding back. “Oh, no. Christa.” He whipped out his phone and tried calling her but the number was disconnected. Dean cussed and ran a hand down his face, hoping she was okay.

Sam tried Jess’s number – it was also disconnected. He sent a text to his Christa and waited for her to reply.

**DAY THIRTEEN**

Christa slowly woke up to the sound of a phone ringing. “You gonna answer that,” she groaned as she gently rolled over; her ribs were stiff and sore but not nearly as painful as they were even yesterday.

A mumble from the man next to her was the only reply and then the phone stopped ringing. Christa closed her eyes again as Dean got out of bed and went into the kitchen. She listened to him shuffle around to get coffee started.

Dean Winchester stood at his kitchen counter, staring at the letter left behind by another version of him. He blinked, rubbed his eyes, and re-read it. Scratching the back of his head, he slowly walked back into his bedroom. Sure enough, a woman other than Miranda was in his bed.

“Christa?” He asked.

The woman in his bed struggled to sit up, grimacing in pain as she did. Dean stared at her, confusion all over his face.

“Dean…? Why are you looking at me li—Oh. Oh shit.” Christa’s eyes went wide and she realized the Dean in front of her had no idea who she was. A sadness gripped her heart with the knowledge that the Dean she knew - and loved - had been torn from her so suddenly. Her eyes filled with tears and she blinked them away. "Nice to meet you, Dean."

* * *

“Cas, you sonuvabitch!” Dean yelled as he grabbed the angel by the lapels.

“I sense you’re angry with me.”

“Damn straight I’m angry with you! You just zapped us back here without a warning!”

“What good would it have done to warn you? So you could say goodbye to a woman you’ll never see again?”

Dean let go of him, immensely frustrated. “Dean, come on. Let’s go home,” Sam said.

“Oh you mean to the bunker? Where there’s nothing but us and books? Great! Sounds wonderful. No more mom, no more Bobby or Ellen!”

“Are you angry that you were reminded they’re dead?” Castiel asked, his face an emotionless mask.

Dean swung but Sam caught his arm. “Dean! Stop! I’m just as pissed – trust me. But we have work to do. Let’s go.” Sam glared at Castiel. “You’d do well to stay away for awhile.”

The older Winchester shook his younger brother off and got into the Impala. Sam followed him directly; his phone buzzed as soon as he got into the car and he pulled it out of his pocket to see a text from Christa, _copy that_.

Sam checked their location – they were outside Atlanta, Georgia. “Dean, we’re in Atlanta.”

“Got it,” Dean said and turned on to the road towards the highway.

Sam texted Christa back an estimated time of arrival and told her to meet them at the bunker.

“Damn it feels good to be behind the wheel again!” Dean smiled and caressed the steering wheel.

“Dude, we’ve only been gone technically a day.”

“Not the same, man.”

Sam rolled his eyes and settled in for the last few hours to Lebanon.

When they arrived at the bunker – their bunker – Christa was already waiting for them. She met them at the bottom of the stairs and Sam enveloped her in his arms, hugging her tightly. Christa winced.

“Jesus, Sam, you were only gone for a day.”

“Actually we were gone for almost two weeks,” Dean interjected, forcing himself to smile at seeing Christa and Sam embrace.

“Excuse me?” Christa asked and pulled away from Sam. “Y’all wanna tell me something?”

They all sat down and the brothers took turns telling Christa about their time on Earth-2. “So you guys defeated Lilith again?”

The brothers exchanged a look. “Actually, that’s kind of a funny story?”

“I died!” Dean announced proudly. Sam rolled his eyes.

Christa looked from one brother to the other with one eyebrow raised. “So who killed her?”

“You did,” Sam said carefully.

Christa laughed but then shrugged when she saw he was serious. “Guess I’m just a badass no matter what. Although that does explain why Castiel was hanging around so much.”

“He was? I mean, he was over there a few times, too. We still aren’t even one hundred percent clear on how we got from here to there and back again.”

The three of them walked into the kitchen and Sam got them all a beer while Dean and Christa sat at the table. “So, Sam, you mentioned Jessica… Like, Jess? Jessica? From Stanford?”

Sam nodded.

“Wow. That must have been awkward for you with me and her both there.”

Dean smirked and took a gulp. “Nah. That Christa picked me.”

“She what now?” Christa stared at him incredulously. Sure, Dean was fucking gorgeous but he was so cocky. She studied him closely and then shrugged. “Yeah whatever, I guess I can see it.”

“You love me, sweetheart,” Dean drawled.

Christa rolled her eyes. “In your wildest dreams, Winchester.”

“Or in another reality,” he wiggled his eyebrows.

Sam was really glad to be back where they belonged – with the exception of missing Jess. He should probably tell Christa he slept with her but he just didn’t have it in him right that moment. 

**ONE WEEK LATER**

Sam could feel her eyes on him, studying his every movement as he tossed the pasta in sauce.

“We gonna talk about Jess?” She asked. She had given him plenty of time to broach the subject but he hadn’t. Instead, he’d hunkered down with research and took a couple cases that had him away from the bunker for most of the week. Christa plucked a piece of cheese out of the salad in front of her and started nibbling.

“I guess so,” he said and sighed.

“You slept with her,” Christa mentioned and made it clear she wasn’t asking a question.

“I did,” Sam replied slowly.

“Okay. And? I slept with Dean but we’ve all moved on. You’ve been moping all week, Sam. I can tell when you’re hurting.”

“She was possessed and then she went into a coma before we had a chance to kill Lilith.”

“You told me that.”

Sam sighed again and set the pot aside and turned off the burner. He turned around to face her but couldn’t bring himself to make eye contact. “I chose her over you,” he muttered.

“Mm. How’s that? I mean obviously the me over there chose Dean – so it’s not like you chose Jess over me, right? It was just fate or whatever.” Christa popped a cherry tomato into her mouth.

Sam looked every inch the most uncomfortable Christa had ever seen him. Getting him to talk to her was like pulling teeth lately and that was highly unusual. He regularly volunteered information on just about everything except for Jessica. Christa thought he must just be broken hearted at having to leave her behind.

“Sam, it’s not your fault that Jess got possessed. She’ll be okay. It sounds like you guys got to her as soon as you could.”

“Yeah, we did. But, Christa, when it was either help Dean fight Lilith and keep you – other Christa – out of harm’s way, I chose to be at Jess’ side.”

Her eyebrows raised and she studied him, not saying anything.

“I took Jess to the hospital and left Dean and you – her – to fend for themselves. Lilith went after her – Christa, I mean – and I wasn’t there. I was with Jess.” Sam swallowed a lump in his throat as tears threatened his eyes.

Christa frowned as he got upset. She walked around the island to him and rubbed his back. “Hey, Sam. It’s okay. Jess might not have survived if you hadn’t done something. And that wasn’t me, okay? It was just an alternate reality version of me. I’m right here. If you need time to process the whole Jess thing, that’s fine. I get it. So, if you need me out of your hair so you can think,” she shrugged and let the statement speak for itself.

“I missed having my best friend,” Sam said quietly. “I think that was the hardest part. I couldn’t talk to you over there – or her, really. It was so strange because it was _you_ but not you. I missed you so much.”

“I missed you, too. Honestly, if I had run into your doppelgangers, I might have lost my shit,” she said with a grin. “I’ll go get Dean and tell him food’s ready.”

The three of them ate in comfortable silence. Christa had a lot to think about – the fact some alternate version of her was banging Dean Winchester without being hexed was interesting. She noticed he kept looking at her when he thought she wasn’t paying attention; she’d have to talk to him about that in private. And Sam was still closed off so she felt like she was kind of in the way with him. Christa still loved the brothers, especially Sam, but they’d been through a lot of fucked up shit just to come back home and find no time had passed for her.

That night, she packed her bags and told Sam she was going to stay in a motel to give him space. Sam gave her his signature sad eyes but nodded, agreeing that it might be best for now. They hugged lightly and he kissed the top of her head before retreating into the library. Christa found Dean in the living space and asked him to go up to the garage with her.

“What’s up? You’re not borrowing Baby,” he said as Christa shut the door behind them. He sensed something was up and gave her a puzzled look.

“That’s fine. I don’t need the car, Dean. I’m gonna go stay at a motel to give Sam some space.”

“Why don’t you just stay in my room?” He teased.

Christa could tell he was partially serious and frowned at him. “About that, Dean. You’ve got to stop looking at me like you want to devour me.”

He blinked, giving her a blank look as the familiar phrase left her mouth. “Do what now?”

“I’ve seen the way you’ve been eye-fucking me. We had some good times when I was basically a succubus and it was nice but I don’t need anything else coming between me and Sam right now. Especially not you.”

He raised his hands to shoulder-height and shook his head. “Believe me, I’m not trying to get between anybody. I’ll try not to ‘eye-fuck’ you anymore. But if Sammy doesn’t get himself out of this funk,” he raised an eyebrow and gave her a slight smirk.

“You and I both know he will. He just needs time,” Christa assured him. She was also trying to convince herself of that. Sam’s heart was hurting and it hurt her to know that but what really hurt was that she couldn’t help him work through this. Christa closed the distance between her and Dean and gave him a light kiss on the lips. “Behave yourself, Winchester.”

“Never,” he replied and Christa couldn’t help but notice his eyes darken as he studied her face. She briefly wondered how long it would be before they stopped denying themselves. Pushing that thought aside, Christa flashed him a friendly smile and walked out of the garage to meet her ride farther down the road.

* * *

A loud knocking aroused Christa from a deep, dreamless sleep. Groggy, she made sure she had on both a shirt and shorts and then tumbled herself out of the motel bed. “What is it? I don’t want housekeeping,” she croaked.

“It’s me, Sam,” said a voice from the other side of the door.

Christa opened the door without removing the lock bar and stared at the person in front of her. It looked like Sam alright. “Cristo,” she mumbled. Nothing happened. “Silver,” she mumbled again. Sam sighed and pressed a silver chain against his bare forearm. She shut the door, unlocked it all the way, and opened it again.

Sam strode into the room and shut the door behind him. He grabbed her face with his hands and kissed her deeply and urgently. Still half-asleep, Christa moaned softly into his mouth but pulled away and stepped back from him. “What the hell, Sam? What time is it?”

“I want you,” he breathed, staring into her eyes. She regarded him and noticed his eyes were clear and almost shining. He didn’t taste like alcohol, which meant he was sober. Her eyes narrowed as if she weren’t convinced. Sam waited for her to acknowledge him.

“Seriously? It’s been, like, a day.” Christa stepped towards him again and ran her hands up his chest to his shoulders. “Be gentle,” she whispered as she leaned up to kiss him, mindful of her lingering bruises.

Sam crashed his mouth into hers and it took all of his will power to not crush her into his arms. He gently put his hands on her hips as she pressed into him. Her arms wrapped around his neck and she hopped up; he caught her, his hands on her ass, and turned towards the bed.

He had her undressed and his face between her legs in less than two minutes. Christa succumbed to his tongue and lips on her and he didn’t waste any time – he made her come quickly. A sense of urgency pounded through his veins and he undressed and climbed on top of her. The need to touch, to be touched, to feel something other than despair competed with the thoughts of needing to be careful with her.

“Gentle,” Christa reminded him as his hands roamed her body. Sam nodded and kissed her neck as he pushed himself into her folds. She moaned and he realized how much he’d missed the noises she made for him. He pulled away from her neck and sat up on his knees pulling her legs up against his chest; his eyes roamed down her body, focusing on the dark purple bruises along her lower ribs as he thrust into her at a steady pace.

“Jesus, Chris. Are you okay?” He breathed as he caressed her legs.

”Yes,” she sighed back. “Just a nasty werewolf encounter.”

”Mm,” he nuzzled her calf and slowly picked up his pace.

She moaned again for him and he found it incredibly difficult to not slam into her. He groaned as he held himself back and squeezed his eyes shut.

Sam lost himself in her as he lowered himself back down. Her hands roamed his torso and her legs wrapped around his hips; her mouth kissed him all over his neck, jaw, and shoulders while he kept pace. Almost thirty minutes later, he pulled out of her and came on her thigh, shuddering.

He got her off again in the shower as she pressed her ass into his hips. Then a third time when he was helping her dress.

Christa loved that he wanted to touch her but she begged him to stop after the third one. Sam acquiesced and they curled up on the bed together, with her head on his chest and legs entwined with his.

“So do you want me to come back to the bunker?” She asked quietly as her fingers lazily traced geometric patterns on his chest over his tee shirt.

“No,” Sam said and grinned inwardly.

“Okay?” The look of confusion on her face was stunning.

“I want you here, where you can scream and Dean won’t hear it. Wouldn’t want to make him jealous.”

Christa grinned up at him and bit her lip. “Is that so?”

Sam nodded and rolled over on top of her, kissing her mouth passionately.

Christa closed her eyes and saw Dean’s face behind her eyelids. She groaned into Sam’s mouth, hoping he wouldn’t pick up on the anguish behind it.


	10. Lonely Children

**SIX WEEKS LATER**

In the reality of the hunter brothers, Christa Edelwood didn’t return to the bunker and instead left the motel and resumed her solitary, nomadic lifestyle to hunt. The brothers also resumed hunting together – except on the rare occasion they split up for smaller jobs. They still had no idea what had summoned Lilith or how and while Dean didn’t care too much about finding out, Sam took it upon himself to look into it.

She had left the motel outside Lebanon after a few days - she needed to get out and hunt again. Now, Christa was closely watching a vampire nest outside Spokane. She called Sam one day to check in. It was the first time they’d spoken in two weeks.

“A dozen or so vamps, Chris, even for us, that’s a challenge. I can be out there in less than a day.”

“Nah, Sam. I’m pretty sure they’re all fairly young. I’ve only been able to track three so far. I don’t think it’s more than four, tops. I got this. If I need help, I’ll call Millie. She’s closer than you, anyway.”

Sam was silent for a moment then lowered his voice. “Why don’t you want to work with me anymore, Chris?”

Christa scoffed. “It’s not that, Sammy. It’s just that you and Dean went through some weird shit and,” she shrugged though Sam couldn’t see her over the phone, “I just figured you guys could use some space.”

“I miss you,” Sam blurted out. “Just… why don’t you stop by when you’re done in Spokane?”

Christa was silent for a moment. Her heart hurt that she was lying to Sam about the reason she was staying away – and that reason had green eyes and a chiseled jaw. Ever since she’d been under the spell and Dean admitted he’d had feelings for her, it was hard to be around him and Sam. Even worse, when the guys returned from the alternate dimension – or whatever – Dean made it much harder for her upon announcing he’d been sleeping with the other Christa. “Yeah, okay, Sam. I’ll try to swing by when this job is done.”

“Okay. See you soon?”

“Yeah.” She hung up and flung herself onto her bed, a storm of emotions flowing through her. She loved Sam and cared for him deeply – more than anybody else in her life – but Dean was all she could think about. Even when she hooked up with other women, which she told Sam about because he seemed to enjoy it, she gravitated towards green-eyed brunettes. Tonight, however, the bar down the street was calling to her and she gave in. The vamp nest could wait another day or two while she drowned her feelings.

About four shots, several beers, and a few hours later Christa was finally in a place where she could relax quite a bit. All night, she’d felt like she was being watched but when she scanned the bar, she saw nothing out of the ordinary. She chalked it up to paranoia and letting her guard down. One man at the bar had managed to capture her attention and she felt guilty, at first, thinking about taking this guy back to her motel until she thought of Sam and Jessica. She didn’t hold it against him – how could she? – but the thought of them together still stung enough to take the edge of guilt off. _It’s not like it’s Dean, anyway_ , she thought.

“What’s your name, cowboy?” Christa hid the slur in her speech like a professional as the man slid in next to her.

“Brad,” he smiled at her and put an arm around her shoulder. “Wanna get out of here?”

That was the last thing she remembered.

* * *

Christa woke up the next morning with a raging headache. She opened one eye at a time, unsure what to expect since she didn’t remember a thing from the night before. The one thing she was sure of was that she’d been drinking at a bar down the street. Surely, she didn’t drink _this_ much. A foggy memory of a strange man approaching her came through the haze of her mind and she rolled over slowly, expecting to see a total stranger in her bed.

“Oh, what the fuck,” she muttered as she saw Dean Winchester asleep next to her. He was dressed in his jeans and a tee shirt and she noticed she was also still dressed in the clothes she’d worn to the bar.

“Morning, sunshine,” he mumbled with his eyes still shut. “How’s that head of yours feeling?”

“You’ve gotta be fucking joking,” Christa said as she covered her face with her hands, fighting the queasy feeling in her stomach. “Why are you here?”

“Nice to see you, too, sweetheart.”

“Winchester.”

He waved her off and sat up, yawning and stretching. “Good thing, too, because that guy you were with drugged you. You blacked out on the sidewalk outside the bar.”

Christa groaned and rolled back onto her side. “Please leave.”

Dean sat on the bed and looked at her back. She was in bad shape; she let her guard down and she had been distant both emotionally and physically since he and Sam got back from their wild ride into another reality.

“You gank those vamps, yet?”

“No. I was going to wait until tonight.”

“Good, then I’ll be here to help,” he said too cheerfully for Christa’s liking.

“Why are you here?”

“I literally just said I was gonna help with the nest,” Dean said.

Christa groaned in response again, the nausea becoming worse, and then sat up and faced him. “Why are you actually here? I told Sam I’d call Millie if I needed assistance. Then you show up outta nowhere. If I wanted you, Dean, I would have told you. Wanted your help, I mean.”

Dean caught her slip and studied her face. “What’s going on with you?”

“Nothing! I just… I’m used to being alone, okay? I work better this way, with no attachments.”

“Why? Because no attachments means no distractions? C’mon, Christa. I’m not a distraction.”

“Yes, Dean! You are!” She exclaimed before she had a chance to stop herself. Her hand went to her mouth as if to shove the words right back in.

His green eyes looked at her thoughtfully and she could practically see the wheels turning in his head. Christa couldn’t fight the nausea any longer and she ran to the bathroom, kneeling in front of the toilet just in time. She didn’t hear him follow her and she was too busy puking her guts out to shoo him away, so he crouched behind her and gently pulled her hair back. When she was done, she was trembling and crying quietly – she abhorred throwing up.

Dean helped her stand while she hated how much she liked having him near her. The bathroom sink suddenly became something worth studying to avoid looking at him as she wiped her face. She chewed her lip, torn between wanting to tell him to go and giving in to the turmoil inside of her that she knew only he could sedate. Christa took a couple deep breaths and rinsed her mouth out at the sink before using mouthwash. “Is that why you’ve stayed away? Because of me?” He asked as she swished.

Christa looked at him in the mirror, spit out the mouthwash, and nodded as she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

“Is this the about the ‘eye-fucking’ thing? ‘Cause trust me, it won’t happen again. Sam’s been through a lot, Christa. He needs you – at least he needs to know you’re safe. I’d like to know you’re safe, too. He’s worried sick most days which makes him a pain in my ass. Do you know what you did when you just left without saying anything?” A twinge of anger came through in his voice because what he really meant was: did she know what she did to _him_ when she left without a word?

“What was I supposed to say, Dean?” She turned around, her eyes steadfastly fixed on the floor in front of her. “That I was leaving because all I could think of was you? ‘Sorry, Sam. Gotta run. I love you but I can’t stop thinking about your brother ever since we had sex while you were away.’ Yeah, that would go over well.” She flicked her eyes up to his face and saw a number of things happening. He was confused, surprised, and concerned all at once. Her eyes went back to the floor.

Dean was silent for a long moment, examining her intensely. She felt his eyes on her and her insides were screaming for him as her brain wrestled with her feelings, trying to convince her otherwise.

“I understand if you want to tell Sam why. I just can’t,” she started. Dean acted on instinct and closed the distance between them and took her face in his hands, guiding her lips to his. He kissed her and she let him for a moment and then pulled away, swallowing a sob as fresh tears streaked down her face. “Dean,” she said, shaking her head.

“I’m sorry,” he said half-heartedly. Kissing her obviously didn’t help things; it seemed to make her struggle even more with the situation. He knew that by acting on his wants he risked the relationship with his brother but his past with Christa stretched back almost twenty years. Since Omaha, when she had left him without a word then, too,  they went years without speaking unless Sam was there to moderate and buffer.

It wasn’t until Christa showed up at the bunker with Sam those months ago he realized that he might have also had deeper seated feelings for her, despite the effects of the spell. It was easy to justify being with her, then, because of the effects she suffered and he had Sam’s permission to help her however she needed. When the other Christa almost sacrificed herself for him, he knew if he couldn’t have this Christa, he would feel incomplete. He knew, now, what it felt like for her to fall for him completely and belong to him and him alone. For the first time in his life he was coming to terms with being truly selfish when it came to his and Sam’s relationship.

“I can’t,” Christa whispered through her tears. “I don’t want to hurt Sam.”

“I know.” He pulled her to him and wrapped his arms around her.

Her shoulders shook as she cried harder into his shoulder. “I need you, Dean.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Christa. You’ll always have me when you need me.” He gently rubbed her back, wanting nothing more than to comfort her. He had no idea how much the other Christa had gotten under his skin until this one had left and not come back, again. The emptiness he felt since leaving one Christa behind was undeniable now that he had her in his arms. He felt bad that he’d driven her away, at least in part because he wanted her so much, and seeing her with Sam had been better than not seeing her at all. But he wanted her to himself and he couldn’t deny that anymore.

Christa calmed down after a few moments. “That’s not what I meant,” she whispered as she pressed her forehead to his. “I mean I _need_ you, Dean. Right now.”

He closed his eyes and processed her words.

“I can’t get you out of my head, Winchester. Every time I close my eyes; every time someone else touches me; every time I get off – it’s you I see. And I don’t know why all of a sudden.” She took a deep breath to steady herself. “I just know that it’s driving me crazy and I can’t be around Sam while I’m thinking about you.” She stepped back and their eyes finally met. Her heart was pounding in her ears. They stared at each other, hesitant to be the first one to make a move because once that happened, there was no going back. He felt her hand reach for his and he grasped it and led her back into the bedroom. He couldn’t deny the pull he felt towards her; it was why he had hunted her down in the first place.

They stopped next to the bed and faced each other for a moment without saying anything. Christa was the one to close the distance between them this time. She pressed against him, her lips and tongue meeting his. He turned her back towards the bed as she pulled her shirt off. Dean’s hands went around her and unclasped her bra before he pulled off his own shirt. A small wanton noise came from her as he resumed kissing her and unzipped her jeans, letting her push them off as he pushed off his own.

She sat back on the bed and he came with her. They kissed again and he settled himself between her legs, running his hands down her body. A moment later, Christa pushed him onto his back. She pulled off her underwear and he did the same, then Christa straddled his hips. Dean bit his lip as she barely moved against him; he was hard already and he groaned at the feeling of her wet warmth on him. Consideration of the consequences of their actions went right out the window as Christa slowly slid down the length of him until he filled her. “Oh my God, Dean,” she breathed and lifted her hips slowly, taking her time to feel him inside of her. It felt like the first time because she was in complete control of herself and her desires.

He placed his hands firmly on her hips and rocked his own hips back and forth. Green eyes dark with desire watched himself disappear into her again and again and the rest of his coherent thoughts dissipated.

She saw him watching and moaned softly. Dean closed his eyes as memories of her from Charleston, the bunker, and the alternate reality flooded his mind. In his mind he saw her face as he made her come and felt a tingle in his spine upon remembering what it felt like to be inside of her when she came. He groaned deeply and opened his eyes to look up at her face. “Jesus, Christa,” he breathed. Despite the memories, he also felt like this was the first time he was really with her.

She stared down at him as she rode him and lost herself in his eyes. His gorgeous lips were parted as he panted lightly, his green eyes were intently focused on her, and his brow was furrowed in concentration. He moved his hands to her breasts and she arched her back towards him and tilted her head back, relishing the feeling of his rough hands on her smooth skin. Another moan escaped her lips and he grunted in response. Christa slid one of his hands up and she closed his fingers around the base of her throat, tilting her head forward again to stare down at him. Her other hand snaked down her body and her fingertips found her clit. She had discovered the intense pleasure of being choked a few weeks ago when a pretty younger woman showed Christa things she didn’t know she’d enjoy.

Dean felt a rush of heat spread to his limbs and he relaxed his fingers a little on her neck. Her other hand immediately covered his and pressed. “Don’t stop,” she said hoarsely as her breathing became ragged. He swallowed then licked his lips and dropped his gaze to watch her fingers between her legs.

“Shit,” he panted as she pushed herself towards the edge. She was moaning and whimpering with almost every shallow breath and he felt her tighten around him. “Come for me,” he urged as the knot of heat in his abdomen grew steadily.

Her eyes opened, met his, and then she broke, her body shuddering as waves of ecstasy crashed through her and ripped a scream from her mouth. Her sex throbbed around him and Dean took a deep breath, clenching his jaw as he bucked up into her. After a moment, she sighed his name, asking for more. Dean had to take another deep breath and pause before he exploded. He moved his hands back to her hips. When she leaned down to kiss him he bent his knees and held her tightly as he fucked her hard and fast, losing himself inside of her.

She cried out with pleasure into his mouth and her nails dug into his shoulders as she held onto him. A deep groan tore itself from his throat and he broke the kiss. He squeezed his eyes shut, “Fuck, I’m gonna come,” he panted.

“Yes, please,” Christa moaned out.

Dean slammed up into her a couple more times and then pulled out of her, holding her hips up as he came, groaning her name loudly. Her lips met his and she kissed him again as he plummeted back down to earth. She gently pulled out of the kiss and rested her forehead against his as she pushed two of her fingers inside of her; those fingers then met Dean’s lips and he licked them clean. Christa sighed and kissed him again, tasting herself on him. “Fuck, Dean,” she whispered.

“You just did, sweetheart,” he smirked up at her as she climbed off of him. “You hungry?”

“Starving.”

* * *

Christa started packing a bag of essentials for the night’s hunt. “The nest is about fifteen miles away in the area of Nine Mile Falls,” she announced as she checked the sharpness of her machete’s edge.

“I’ll drive,” Dean said. He smirked as she rolled her eyes at him – he was the only one of them with a car.

They headed out at dusk and parked the Impala far enough away from the nest to approach on foot. She was right about the vampires in that they were fairly young and there were only four of them. It was an easy hunt and they were piling the bodies to burn within an hour of arriving. When they finished, they headed back to the motel to clean up and make a hasty exit.

Her phone buzzed as she was pulling on a clean shirt and she picked it up, seeing Sam’s name on her screen. Christa chewed on her bottom lip for a moment and then answered his call. “Hey, you.” She pulled on a clean pair of denim shorts.

“Hey, Chris. How’d the hunt go?”

“Easy peasy lemon squeezy,” she replied, walking out of the motel room to lean against the Impala while Dean finished showering. “All taken care of.”

“That’s good to hear. You still coming by this week? I’d really like to see you.”

Christa swallowed and closed her eyes, silently cussing at herself. She folded her arms around herself against the chill of the night.

“Chris? You there?”

“Yeah, sorry Sam. I’m here. Um, yeah, I can do that.”

“That’d be nice. Also, have you heard from Dean? He headed out to Oregon but he hasn’t checked in, yet.”

Christa stiffened as Dean strolled out of the motel room and asked loudly, “You ready to head out?”

She licked her lips and mouthed ‘Sam’ to him while pointing at the phone. Sam cleared his throat and Christa could almost see the puzzlement on his face. “Is that uh, is that Dean? He’s there with you?”

“Yeah, Sam. He got here last night and helped me with the nest. He says he’s sorry for not texting you.”

“Did you call him there?”

“No! I didn’t. I have no idea how he even found me,” she said, glaring at Dean over the roof of the Impala. He winked at her and she turned to go back into the room to get her bags.

“Oh.”

“Anyway. I guess I’ll get a ride back with him instead of bussing it. I’ll let you know when we get to Nebraska,” she forced cheerfulness into her voice.

“Yep. Okay, sounds good. See you soon.”

“See you, Sammy.” She hung up and picked up her bags; when she turned, Dean was leaning against the doorframe with his arms folded across his chest.

“Did you tell him?”

“Are you crazy? Of course I didn’t fucking tell him,” Christa growled.

Dean nodded and his eyes traveled the length of her body. “Guess we should get going, then,” he replied. “It’s getting late.” Christa sighed and shoved her backpack at him as she approached the door. He caught it with one hand and grabbed her arm with his other, preventing her from getting by. “Or,” he lowered his voice significantly, “we could stay another night and leave in the morning.”

Christa shivered; his breath was hot on her neck and it sent chills through her. Her lips parted as if to argue with him but when her blue eyes met his green ones, she lost all resolve. Truth be told, she was dreading seeing Sam again after this. As if he read her mind, he dropped her backpack and grabbed her other bag off her shoulder as he pushed her back into the room and shut the door behind them. He spun her around and pressed her back against the door as he kissed her deeply. She returned his kiss with no hesitation this time and reached up to lock the door.

* * *

The older Winchester glanced over at his passenger, who was concentrating on her phone screen with her tongue poking out of her lips just slightly.

“Whatcha got over there?”

“Just a game,” she replied without looking up. Her thumbs swiped across the screen quickly.

Dean made a noise in his throat somewhere between a hum and a grunt. He looked at the road for awhile and then glanced back at her, eyes traveling up her bare legs.

“Don’t be a creep, Dean.”

“How do you always know?” He asked, honestly surprised.

She looked up at him, her dark sunglasses preventing him from seeing her eyes, which weren’t hiding her amusement very well. “Because I can feel your eyes on me. And you think too loudly.”

“I do what now?” His mind was flashing images of pulling over and doing her against the car while traffic flew by on the highway.

Christa smirked and went back to her game. “Pervert.”

Dean shook his head and licked his lips, turning most of his attention back to driving.

* * *

“Hey, you,” Christa said into her phone as Dean stepped out of the car. He felt a twinge of envy that she was greeting Sam that way. “Yeah, we’re gassing up outside Cheyenne,” she yawned into the phone and Dean stifled one in response. “We’re gonna have to stop for the night – neither one of us is going to be able to stay awake the next six or seven hours.” Dean listened, his hand on the pump, as she paused for Sam to reply. She chuckled in response to whatever he said. “I’ll be sure to tell him. Yep. Okay, see you tomorrow, Sammy.”

Christa fought to stay awake long enough for them to order diner food. They’d been in the car off and on for eighteen hours by the time she talked Dean into pulling over for some sleep.

When they got to a motel, she didn’t even bother grabbing her pack from the Impala – she went right in and flopped face-down onto the queen sized bed. The older Winchester toed off his boots and went to the bathroom before he followed suit. He made sure to take the gun out of his waistband and tuck it under his pillow before he let sleep take him. It was the first time he didn’t dream since coming back to his own reality.

Christa, however, dreamt vividly. She dreamt of a coven of faceless witches, standing in a pentagram and chanting: _Lilit, sharaku. Sa belet ersetim ki’am parsusa. Ati me peta babka. Usella mituti ikkalu baltuti. Eli baltuti ima idu mituti. Kasadu._ No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t see their faces and when they finally pushed back their hoods, their faces were monstrous and demonic, their eyes solid white. When they noticed her, the coven began clawing at her and ripping her flesh with sharp blades; they slit her throat and watched as she slowly bled out.

Christa opened her eyes and sat bolt upright as she panted and gasped for air, her hands flying to her neck as if to stop the bleeding. Dean snorted once and settled into a snore before Christa realized she’d been dreaming. Shaking and terrified, she got out of bed and went into the bathroom to splash her face with water. She breathed deeply for a few minutes and then returned to the bed and checked the time on her phone. It was 6:30AM and she had only slept a few hours; she lied awake, afraid of what her dreams would conjure.

Around 9:30, she finally got up and went to take a shower. It wasn’t until she was under the water that she remembered her pack with clean clothes was out in the car. After several seconds, she decided she didn’t care and let the hot water run over her, trying not to think about how she felt her skin being ripped at or the amount of blood running from her wounds.

Dean woke up and heard the shower running, instantly imagining Christa in there. A grin teased at the corners of his mouth and he stretched and got up, heading into the bathroom to join her. Silently, he undressed and stepped into the shower behind her. She was facing the water and her eyes were closed against the stream coming down on her head. He waited for her to acknowledge his presence without even opening her eyes, but she just stood there, hugging herself. A little concerned, he reached out and touched her shoulder.

Christa screamed and Dean thought she was going to jump out of her skin; it was as if his hand had burned her flesh with the way she ducked away from his touch. More than a little concerned, he held his hands up and away from her. “Hey! Hey! It’s me.”

Though it seemed so far away, she heard Dean’s voice and it slowly registered in her mind that he, not some blood-thirsty witches, had somehow snuck into the shower with her. Her fear gave way to exhaustion and she leaned against the wall and covered her face with her hands, trying not to cry in front of him again. She took deep breaths to calm herself, though her hands and lips were trembling.

Dean’s brow furrowed deeply as he watched her fight off a panic attack. “Are you okay?” He asked, inching closer to her. She nodded and reached out for him and he pulled her gently into his arms. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said as she pressed herself against him. She seemed desperate to touch her body to his where ever possible; her chin was on his shoulder and her hands and forearms were against his chest and abdomen. They were touching, skin-to-skin, all the way down to their knees. She finally pulled away after a minute and Dean noticed the dark circles under her eyes. “Did you sleep?”

“Not really,” she said hoarsely, avoiding looking into his eyes.

“Hey,” he gently turned her chin towards him. “What’s going on?”

“Just a stupid nightmare,” she forced a grin up at him but her eyes still didn’t quite meet his.

Dean grunted and dropped it. There was something about her that told him to stop asking. “Well, since we’re both here,” he hinted, giving her his you-know-what-I’m-thinking smirk.

“I didn’t invite you in, Winchester,” she retorted. She knew deep down her banter was only foreplay at this point, though, no matter how hard she tried to deny it. Her eyes were drawn to his lips and she wondered, probably for the millionth time, how many other women he’d looked at like that. He really knew how to use his ungodly good looks to his advantage.

He continued gazing at her, waiting for her to come around. “You know I love it when you play hard-to-get, sweetheart.”

She bit her lower lip as his eyes penetrated her, burned into her, saw right through her. Christa picked up the soap and handed it to him before she turned away and lifted her hair off her neck. “Why don’t you make yourself useful and wash my back?”

He did. Then he slid the soap around to her front and washed her breasts and stomach. After, he slid the bar between her legs, teasing her as he just barely avoiding touching her sex. Dean leaned in close to her as he made another pass between her legs and kissed the side of her neck. His hands came back up her body and the one not holding the soap cupped her breast. She exhaled sharply and tilted her head to give him better access to her neck. “Is that all you want?” He whispered into her ear.

Goose bumps appeared on her arms and she sighed as he gently tweaked a nipple. She wanted to feel in control of herself and wanted to be able to say no, to resist his touch, to not think about him in every manner of carnality her mind could conjure. Maybe someday she would say no but today was not that day. She moaned as he pulled her hips back and she felt his hard length against her. “Give it to me, Dean.”

“Give what to you?”

“Fuck me,” she breathed as his hand ghosted past her sex again. She heard the soap drop and lifted a foot to put on the edge of the tub while she braced herself against the wall in front of her. Dean held her hips and pushed himself into her – all the way in – and she moaned again.

* * *

Determined to push aside the nightmare and its lingering effects on her psyche, Christa made Dean play along to childish car games with her for the last leg of the trip. When they got tired of reading signs and looking at license plates, Christa busied herself with a game on her phone, which only lasted about half an hour before she had to wait for more lives. Frustrated, she shoved her phone into her back pocket.

“So what’s dying like?” She said, desperate to keep her mind occupied.

Dean’s eyes glanced over to her while his face stayed emotionless. “Hm? Which time?”

She shrugged and bit her lip. “Whatever time you feel like talking about.”

“I don’t feel like talking about any of them, Christa,” he said gruffly.

“Whoa, sorry,” she said, forcing a laugh. “My bad. Just figured since we have all this time, we could talk about something mildly interesting.”

Dean didn’t reply; he reached for the volume knob on the stereo and turned up Metallica.

Christa rolled her eyes and sighed. They had another two hours to go and her headphones were in the trunk. She closed her eyes and hoped she could get a deep enough sleep without any dreams or nightmares. Within a few minutes, she was completely asleep.

Hooded figures. A pentagram. Voices chanting. Demonic faces. White eyes. Searing pain and blood everywhere. As her throat was slit, Christa’s eyes flew open and she gasped for air, her hands flying to her neck.

“Yo, Sleeping Beauty,” Dean said, his voice breaking through the last wisps of her nightmare. “You good?”

Christa took another deep breath as she lowered her hands and clenched her fists to hide how badly her hands were shaking. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Sure you are,” Dean replied. They were sitting at a stop light and he looked over at her. “Another nightmare?”

“Yeah.”

“We’re almost back.”

Christa subconsciously noticed a twinge of hardness in his voice, as if he were mad they were nearly there. Unable to think clearly, she just nodded and stared out the window as tears rolled down her cheeks from under her sunglasses. The sun was already low in the sky, turning the clouds an unsettling shade of red-orange.

Sam greeted them at the bottom of the stairs. Dean shoved bag of his dirty clothes into his little brother’s arms and flashed him a shit-eating grin before clapping him on the shoulder and heading into the kitchen for a beer. Christa clomped down the stairs, exhausted and petrified of going to sleep. She kept her sunglasses on so Sam wouldn’t be able to see how red her eyes were from crying in the car for the last half an hour. He dropped Dean’s bag and Christa dumped her stuff on the floor as Sam bent down for her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and he lifted her up so her toes were barely touching the floor.

“Missed you,” Sam whispered as he hugged her to him.

“Missed you, too, Sammy,” she replied softly, burying her face in his hair.

“What’s wrong?” He set her down and she picked up her bags, avoiding eye contact with him which only concerned him more.

“Just didn’t sleep very well – you know how bad Dean snores.”

Sam grinned and nodded. “Well, dinner is almost ready so let’s eat and then you can get some sleep without having to listen to Dean snoring.”

“Sounds great,” Christa lied.

She changed her clothes, put in a load of laundry, and then joined the boys in the kitchen. Sam had cooked hamburgers and put together a fresh salad. Christa’s stomach rumbled – they only ate snacks in the car earlier. She managed to wrestle one burger away from Dean and helped herself to the salad. Despite having a full plate and an empty stomach, Christa couldn’t seem to find an appetite. She ate half the burger and then picked at her salad.

Dean eyed her half-eaten burger and with a mouthful of his own he asked, “You gonna eat that?”

Sam rolled his eyes and Christa shook her head, handing over the rest of it. The younger Winchester noticed Christa’s lack of appetite but didn’t want to confront her about it at the table, so he finished eating and offered to clean up.

“That’s alright, Sammy, you cooked. Let me clean up. Gotta earn my keep,” she smirked sarcastically.

“You said you were tired, I figured I’d let you go lie down,” he replied, shrugging.

Christa felt Dean’s gaze move to her and she waited until Sam’s back was turned to shoot Dean a knock-it-off glare. She got up and gently pulled Sam away from the sink. “Let me. Please,” she urged.

Sam backed off, laughing, “If you insist. Want help drying?”

“Jesus, Sam! I got this!” Christa smiled and hip-checked him away from the sink again. She could practically hear Dean’s eyes roll in his head.

Sam went into the library. When Dean finished stuffing his face, he brought his plate over to Christa and set it in the soapy side of the sink while his other hand hovered over her lower back.

“I’d offer to stay and help but things don’t tend to stay dry around me,” he said with a confident grin.

Christa scoffed and flicked water at him. “Get out of here before I scream,” she threatened playfully.

Dean’s eyebrows went up and his grin got wider. His hand slid down to her ass and he gave it a firm squeeze. “Promise?”

“Dean!” She hissed.

“Hm?” He moved to stand behind her, pressing his hips into her, sliding his hands up her waist.

Christa bit back a moan but she couldn’t stop herself from pushing back against him as his hands came up to cup her breasts. They heard Sam’s footsteps approach and in the blink of an eye, Dean was at the fridge, nonchalantly grabbing a beer. His touch felt like a ghost and she briefly wondered if she’d imagined it. Christa finished wiping off the last of the plates and set it in the drying rack as her heart pounded in her chest. She silently cursed Dean as she yanked off the rubber gloves and set them aside.

“Everybody done in here?” Sam asked standing with his hands on his hips.

Christa swallowed, wondering how much he’d seen. She threw Dean a nervous glance and then turned to face Sam. “Yeah, just finished the dishes. What’s up?” She asked as her voice hitched just slightly.

Dean handed Sam a beer and began to walk past him when Sam reached out and grabbed his shoulder. “I have something I want to show both of you. Regarding our little side trip to Earth-2.”


	11. Hot Blooded

“So, on the Earth-2 side of things, when we were trying to find out what could possibly have summoned Lilith back to life, we narrowed it down to a few things. First, a nephilim – none of which have been spotted or known about for about a century or more. Second – a coven of witches could potentially be strong enough to do that, especially if they’ve been around for awhile. Remember when those witches summoned Samhain, Dean?” Dean made a face and nodded. “Yeah, so, I’ve pretty much narrowed it down to those two things.”

“Man, fuck witches,” Dean whined. “I hate to say it, but I really hope it’s a nephilim – even if it is evil and wants us dead.”

Christa pulled a knee up to her chest and stared blankly at the shelves behind Sam. Her mind was replaying the hooded figures swaying and chanting in her nightmares. She wasn’t positive that it was a coven but her gut told her otherwise. She knew she’d be sneaking back here later to try and decipher what they were saying. If she could remember.

“Earth to Christa? Hello?” Sam waved his hand in her line of sight and she blinked, slowly focusing on him.

“Hm? Sorry.”

“Go get some sleep. You look exhausted.”

“You still thinking about that nightmare?” Dean offered, which earned him a severe glare from Christa.

“What nightmare?” Sam asked.

“It’s nothing,” Christa shot back. “Just some stupid dream. I guess I’ve been taking on too many cases the past several weeks. My brain’s just telling me to take a break.”

Sam’s expression told her he only half-believed her but he nodded. “Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.”

Christa nodded and stood up, chewing her bottom lip for a second. “Alright, boys. I’m going to get some sleep after I throw my stuff in the dryer.”

“I’ll do that for you,” Sam offered and stood up almost too quickly.

She knew there was no fighting Sam on this – he only took ‘no’ for an answer when he offered his help so many times. “Okay. Thanks.”

They left the library together and Christa felt Dean’s eyes on her until she was out of sight.

Christa followed Sam to the laundry room, not because she didn’t trust him to set the dryer to the right setting, but because she wasn’t actually ready to sleep. Not if the nightmare was waiting for her. That and Dean had gotten her all riled up and she realized how much she really missed Sam, which she was afraid of. She watched him bend over to move the laundry and grinned. “Nice view, Sam.”

He chuckled and shut the dryer, then stood up and turned it on. “C’mon, let’s get you to bed,” he said as his hazel eyes stared down at her.

Christa pulled him towards her and gave him her most sultry look. “Or we can get me right here,” she said quietly as she reached up and hooked her hands together behind his neck.

Sam grinned and grabbed her waist. He spun her around so her back was against the dryer. “How about here?” He asked, not really expecting an answer as he leaned down and kissed her.

Pressing her body into his, she returned his kiss and slid her tongue past his lips. His stubble was thicker than it usually was but it was also softer. She slid one hand into his hair at the back of his neck and the other came around to cup his jaw. Sam groaned softly and then picked her up and set her on the dryer, wedging himself between her legs. Christa was amazed at how both the Winchesters seemed to be able to just casually lift her off the ground, despite her being near Dean’s height and not model-thin.

Sam’s hands went to her thighs and then crept up her waist to her breasts. She thought of how Dean had groped her in the kitchen and shivered, letting out a small moan as Sam squeezed. He took that as a sign of encouragement and slid his hands under her shirt, doing it again.

Christa tried to focus on the smell of him, the distinct cologne and deodorant, his general smell of cleanliness, to banish thoughts of his brother from her mind. It mostly worked.

* * *

His fingers rapidly rubbed her clit as Christa tilted her head back and swallowed a loud moan. Sam slowed his thrusting to focus on getting her off; between the shaking of the dryer and feeling every solid inch of him slowly pushing in and pulling out of her, combined with his fingers working their magic, Christa came very quickly. Sam’s free hand covered her mouth so she moaned into it, sure to steer clear of saying anyone’s name since she didn’t trust herself. He watched her brows furrow as she came for him and he groaned, “God, Christa, that’s hot.” Sam wasted no time in picking up the pace yet again. She clung to him, panting, urging him on with small noises and moans, trying to stay quiet and finding it ridiculously difficult not to. Part of her wanted Dean to hear her, to push that jealousy button, to get under his skin; another part didn’t want Dean to know she was immensely enjoying having Sam less than twelve hours after he fucked her in the shower. Her thoughts were cut short as Sam slammed his hips into hers and buried his face in her neck as he came into the condom.

* * *

Christa slid under the covers and set an alarm on her phone. She seriously doubted she’d need it – she wasn’t planning on getting any sleep. As she stared at the ceiling, her phone buzzed. She picked it up and saw a text from Dean. Confused as to why he would text her when he could just knock on the door, she opened it. _Leave your door unlocked tonight. I want to finish what we started._

Christa sent him back the middle finger emoji.

A moment later, Dean sent her the eggplant and the peach. Christa sighed – it was going to be a rough time unless she could start saying no to Dean Winchester.

 

Dean gave his brother A Look when he came back to the library a good hour after he left with Christa. Sam ignored it and sat down at his laptop, resuming his research. The older Winchester poured his brother two fingers of whiskey and slid it across the table.

“Thanks,” Sam said without looking up. “Hey, Dean?”

“Hm?”

“You said she was having a nightmare? Did she tell you what it was about?”

“Nope. I just know it scared the shit out of her.”

Sam looked up at him, puzzled. “How so?”

Dean shrugged, swirling his whiskey in the glass before taking a sip. “I snuck up on her this morning, which is almost impossible, and she was hysterical.”

Sam’s expression turned to one of concern. “Yeah. She doesn’t startle easily. Huh.” He, too, sipped from his glass. “What do you mean you snuck up on her?”

Expeditiously finding a lie, Dean replied, “Well, she was up before me and she was zoned out pretty hardcore. I went to touch her shoulder and then she freaked.” He stared down into his glass.

Sam nodded and tucked some of his hair behind his ear. His attention went back to his laptop but his gut was telling him something was off. He wasn’t sure why Dean was lying to him – and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

After several more minutes, Dean finally stood up and grabbed his wallet from the table. “I’m heading out.”

“Where?”

“Strip club.”

Sam made a face and shook his head. “Bye.” His brother grinned and disappeared towards the garage. Sam bookmarked a couple more items before he decided to turn in. He thought about climbing into bed with Christa but he talked himself out of it on her behalf – she desperately needed the sleep.

Christa finally dozed off shortly after she heard Sam go into his room. He’d poked his head into her room beforehand and she feigned being asleep. She slept so deeply that she didn’t dream for a few hours.

Dean drove around aimlessly, almost tempted to drive by the house he was born in and decided against it. It wouldn’t do any good – it was long since condemned. He thought about the people he’d lost over the years. The thought of losing Christa – even just to Sam – made so many emotions surface at once that he literally didn’t know what to do with them.

He continued driving around aimlessly, wondering when exactly she got under his skin the way she did. Was it when they were eighteen and she left him in Omaha wondering what in the hell he’d done wrong? Was it in Charleston when he realized she was protecting herself? Or was it when he admitted he had feelings for her not that long ago? The brick that sat in the pit of his stomach wasn’t helping. He stopped at a gas station, filled the tank, and bought a 40. Maybe it would help him digest his emotions a bit quicker. He knew he had to face the fact he’d found a woman – in the other reality – who had no tumultuous past with him and no reason to shy away from him. She hadn’t ever heard of him, knew nothing of his past, and certainly wasn’t shy about wanting him. And she almost sacrificed herself for him. Dean knew this Christa would do the same but he hoped she’d never be in a position to do so.

Dean pulled over into a dark, empty lot and shut the car off. He opened the 40 and sat alone with it and his thoughts for quite awhile.

When he tired of hearing himself think, he went back to the bunker. Wondering if she’d left her door unlocked, he went straight to it and turned the knob. It opened. He licked his lips and peeked in, hearing the steady breathing of someone in a very deep sleep and he felt bad about possibly waking her up since it was obvious she hadn’t slept at all the previous night. She really did scare him this morning when he snuck up on her; something was definitely going on. He watched her sleep for awhile, wanting nothing more than to crawl into bed next to her and just lay there. But he went back to his room and tried to sleep.

Christa slept through the night until around 0400. It was then that the nightmare began.

 _She was armed with a gun filled with witch-killing bullets in her hand and a demon blade at her hip. It was incredibly dark and she took her time, carefully placing one foot in front of the other. The boys weren’t there but she knew she couldn’t wait for them. If she waited, they’d all be dead. She moved farther into the tunnel, her breathing and soft scrape of her boots the only sounds she could hear for several minutes. Then it happened – the chanting. It began quietly and grew louder and more frantic._ ‘Lilit, sharaku. Lilit, sharaku! Lilit, sharaku!!’  _Christa took a deep, steadying breath and cocked the gun. The click of the hammer sounded like a gunshot to her ears. Candle light flickered on a wall to her right – the entrance to their ceremonial space. She tried to remember how many of them there were and she couldn’t. Was it five? Six? Maybe it was nine? Her jaw clenched and she closed her eyes, focusing on the words they were chanting._ ‘Sa belet ersetim ki’am parsusa. Ati me peta babka. Usella mituti ikkalu baltuti. Eli baltuti ima idu mituti. Kasadu. Sa belet ersetim ki’am parsusa. Ati me peta babka. Usella mituti ikkalu baltuti. Eli baltuti ima idu mituti. Kasadu.’ _Christa’s lips moved as she listened to the unrecognizable words. There was no time to figure them out – she had to move. She tip-toed around the corner and held the gun out in front of her, finger on the trigger and ready to squeeze._

_Then the hooded figures all turned towards her. Her heart dropped into her stomach and a cold sweat prickled her skin. They pushed their hoods back and Christa’s fear soared as she stared into monstrous, demonic faces, the likes of which she’d never seen before. She knew she was staring at witches who had given themselves over to demonic magic centuries ago and her fear froze her for a moment._

_It only took that split-second for the witches to bind her and draw her in. Christa bit back a scream of terror as she was dragged into the center of the pentagram drawn on the floor. She knew what was coming next – the blades. Sure enough, she opened her eyes and saw each one draw a shining blade from the cloak and they hovered over her, chanting still._ ‘Lilit, sharaku! Sa belet ersetim ki’am parsusa. Ati me peta babka. Usella mituti ikkalu baltuti. Eli baltuti ima idu mituti. Kasadu!’ _The blades descended into her flesh and Christa screamed. Then a blade dragged across her throat._

Christa woke up as she tumbled out of bed, scrambling away from the witches that weren’t there. She gasped for air, holding her hands to her throat to stop the bleeding that wasn’t happening. It took a moment but she got her bearings and realized she was inside the bunker and she was with Sam and Dean Winchester, not out hunting in the darkness.

A sob tore from her throat and she pulled her knees up to her chest. She sat on the floor of the bedroom and cried for several minutes until the mind-numbing dread started to fade. Needing light, she blindly groped for her phone on the small table beside the bed and then unlocked it to let the screen illuminate her surroundings. More reassured of her safety she stood up and turned on the light. There was no going back to sleep tonight, not even if she wanted to. She changed into jeans and a light sweater and then headed up to the library.

She opened Sam’s laptop and started with the one phrase she remembered clearly, _Lilit, sharaku_. She opened an online translator and inserted the phrase into the blank box, then clicked the button to translate it to English. “Twist my shawl?” Christa asked out loud, thinking surely that wasn’t what was being said. She tried the next phrase she remembered, _Ati me peta babka_. “Ati babka map, yeah I don’t think so.” Concluding that the language she was dreaming wasn’t a modern language, she dug deeper into the internet’s content on ancient languages.

Nearly an hour later, she stumbled upon a photo of an Akkadian cuneiform tablet. Fascinated, she studied the wedges carved into the clay and something clicked in the back of her mind. She went to the card catalogue and pulled a book on cuneiform and its early development. Flipping through the pages, she found the same photo and studied it closely. Some of the symbols and wedges looked familiar. She went back to the internet and learned that Akkadian was developed after Sumerian but was very similar to it and many people spoke both languages for a time. Back to the card catalogue, she pulled several books on Sumerian texts and language. She grabbed a pencil and blank paper and got to work.

Sam woke up at 0700 and went straight to Christa’s room to check on her. Her door was cracked open and the lamp was on but she wasn’t inside. Her phone was missing from the table by her bed where he knew she kept it at night. He glanced at Dean’s closed door suspiciously and shook his head before he headed to the kitchen and began breakfast.

The smell of bacon and coffee drifted to her and she looked at the clock on Sam’s laptop. It was half-past seven and she rubbed her eyes. She was starting to make progress translating what she believed was an ancient Sumerian summoning ritual. Her stomach grumbled and she realized she hadn’t eaten more than a few bites in a couple of days. She was grounded and hopeful enough to where food sounded really, really good.

“Mm, smells good,” she announced as she walked into the kitchen to see Sam standing at the stove.

He smiled without turning around, “There you are. I was a little worried when you weren’t in your room this morning.”

“I’ve been up for awhile. Did some light reading,” she replied, grabbing coffee mugs to set on the table.

Sam wiped his hands on a towel and turned around. She didn’t look as exhausted as she did yesterday, which was good. She also didn’t look completely rested and he had an idea it might be from the nightmare she didn’t tell him about. Not one to put off concern for someone else, Sam watched her for a moment and then asked, “What’s up with this nightmare you won’t tell me about?”

Christa sighed and grinned because she should have seen this coming after Dean’s slip last night. She shook her head as she poured herself some coffee. “It was just really bad, okay?”

“You’ve never had a nightmare that you didn’t recover from instantly, Chris. At least not that I know of.”

“Because none of them involved me being sacrificed at the hands of demonic witches,” Christa muttered.

Sam’s brow creased as he examined her. She refused to make eye contact with him for the moment, staring instead into her cup of coffee. He turned back to the stove and scraped eggs out of the pan onto a plate. “Have you ever had this dream before?”

“Not until the other night.”

“Since?”

“Every time I close my eyes.” There was no point in pulling Dean’s I-Don’t-Want-To-Talk-About-It to Sam because he wasn’t one to quit until someone opened up to him or he guessed correctly.

He came to the table and put the plates down and sat next to her, placing a hand on her thigh. “Chris, that sounds absolutely terrifying.”

“It is. I always wake up just as they slit my throat.”

Sam’s hand squeezed her leg gently and he looked at her with hazel eyes filled with concern and love. Christa closed her eyes and took a deep breath, willing the lump of emotion in her throat to go away. It didn’t work and one tear escaped her eye. She brushed it away before Sam could reach up and do it. Instead, he placed his hand on her cheek and kissed her forehead. “I’m here for you, if you need me,” he assured her. Christa covered his hand with hers and nodded.

“I know, Sam. Thank you.” He kissed her forehead again and she lifted her chin to kiss his lips. He gave her a surprisingly sweet, chaste kiss and then pulled away.

“Get some food in you, Chris. Before Dean wakes up.”

“Can you grab the creamer?” She asked as Sam stood up and he nodded. He put bread into the toaster, got cream from the fridge, and came back to the table. Christa poured a little cream into her coffee and then grabbed a few pieces of bacon and some of the eggs. Her stomach grumbled again and she grinned inwardly as Sam gave her an amused look. They ate in silence together and Christa was amazed at how calming Sam’s presence was after all these years. She remembered sharing a bed with him when he was younger on a few occasions but couldn’t recall why.

They washed their plates together and Christa’s mood was lifted as they got playful trying to bump the other one out of the way.  She put her hand into the sink and squeezed her fist to squirt water at Sam and he growled lightly then turned the sprayer on her. Christa laughed and ducked out of the way before trying to wrestle the spray nozzle from him. The hose wasn’t long, so he couldn’t hold it over his head out of her reach, which meant they took turns spraying each other and generally making a huge mess.

Sam was happy to see Christa laughing; he was happier still that she was finding every excuse to touch him and press against him. He gasped as she sprayed cold water directly down the front of his jeans and then snatched the nozzle away and spun her around so her back was pressed to his chest. Gripping her with an arm around her middle, he shoved the nozzle into her shirt and sprayed. Christa yelped and squirmed against him, “Sam!”

“Hm?” He tossed the nozzle aside and slid his hands up her stomach to squeeze her wet breasts as he leaned down to kiss her mouth.

“Oh Jesus, get a room you two,” Dean’s gruff, sleep-laden voice said from the doorway.

Christa’s breath hitched in her throat and she gently pulled away from Sam. Her eyes caught Dean’s, which were darker green than usual. She couldn’t tell if he was jealous or turned on and it made her more nervous than she cared to admit. “Morning, Sunshine,” she quipped as she walked back to the table.

“Mm,” Dean replied as he sipped his coffee. His eyes traveled the length of her before she sat down. His gaze lingered on her chest and Christa cleared her throat. When his eyes met hers she gave him a subtle look telling him to stop. He grinned inwardly and shoveled a forkful of eggs into his mouth as he focused on his food.

“I’m gonna go take a shower,” Sam said, watching Christa and Dean closely. He wasn’t sure what was going on with them but there was definitely something off. They weren’t at each other’s throats, for one, and he’d never seen them get along for more than a day or so. He lightly shook his head, chalking up the vibe to a weird sense of jealousy that had come from nowhere. Sure, Dean and Christa had been intimate but Sam basically told his brother to fuck her if she needed it while she was hexed and he wasn’t jealous, then. And of course Dean had slept with Christa from the other reality – but they had barely spent any time together here since he and Sam came back.

Aside from the past couple days when he went to Washington without telling Sam.

“Looks like you already got one,” Dean pointedly said.

Pushing that thought out of his mind as his brother spoke up, Sam retreated into the dormitories to take a shower.

When Sam left, Dean looked up at Christa again, who was sitting across from him and sipping her second cup of coffee as her thumb flicked across her phone screen.

“You finally get some sleep?” He asked after swallowing a gulp of coffee. Her eyes were brighter than yesterday and she definitely looked less tired.

“Mm,” Christa replied. “You’d know that if you were here last night.”

Dean lifted an eyebrow – was that jealousy he heard in her voice? “Sammy told you I went out,” he stated.

“Mm,” she said again. “Not really, but you never woke me up so I figured you went to the strip club. Besides, you smell.” Her eyes flicked up to him and he caught a glint of teasing in them.

Dean smirked at her, “You love it.”

Christa rolled her eyes. She actually did find his scent, the one under his deodorant and cologne, the actual scent of him, incredibly sexy. He didn’t need to know that. She made another non-committal hum and took her mug to the sink. He was glad she seemed more relaxed and less terrified but there was something about her that he couldn’t put a finger on. She seemed more reserved around him, like she was nervous that Sam was around. He knew she loved his brother – it was obvious with how well they got on and how often they were touching or even just close to each other – and Dean was more than a little surprised Sam wasn’t in bed with her last night. But he also knew she had feelings for him; what those feelings were exactly, he didn’t know and he didn’t think she did, either.

Dean swallowed the last of the bacon and gathered the rest of the dishes to take to the sink. Christa turned and held out her hands to take them from him. He reached around her to place the dishes in the sink, instead. It was an excuse to get close to her. He paused and smelled her neck only vaguely able to tell she’d been near Sam this morning. A very faint hint of her perfume sat on her skin; his lips touched her neck, wanting to taste her.

“Dean,” she whispered in a warning tone but didn’t make a move to push him away.

He kissed her neck again and again, moving higher towards her ear. Her head tilted to the side as she sighed into his ear. Dean put his hands on the edge of the sink behind her and pressed his hips into her. He gently nipped her neck just below her ear which earned a very soft moan from her.

“Dean,” she tried again as she swallowed what she really wanted to say to him. “Please.”

He knew he could kiss her lips and shut her up but her pleading was really turning him on – and she hadn’t said ‘stop,’ yet. One of his hands moved to her waist and he slid it down her hip and reached around her to grab her ass. His teeth gently tugged on her earlobe and she sighed again. One of her hands slipped between them and caressed his erection through his sweatpants. His eyes closed and he groaned softly, flicking his tongue into her ear. Christa whimpered quietly in response and his hands immediately started undoing her jeans. Dean felt his heart hammering in his chest and all he wanted, all he cared about in that exact moment was touching her and hearing the noises she made for him.

Christa wanted to cry from frustration and desire. She shouldn’t be acting on her lust for Dean – she should have followed Sam to the shower. But she didn’t and now she was here with Dean, who was hard for her and she was wet for him. Another small whimper escaped her lips as he shoved his hand down her underwear and slid his middle finger into her slit.

Dean groaned as he felt how wet she was. He knew he should stay away, not get entangled in her and Sam’s relationship, but he couldn’t seem to find the willpower. He also knew he had a little bit of time because Sam enjoyed long showers. His finger rubbed her back and forth, slowly, making sure she felt it.

Christa’s head fell back and she tried to hold back a moan and failed. Her brain was screaming at her to tell him to stop, to stay away, to hate her, but her heart and her sex were telling her the exact opposite. “Dean,” she breathed as he rubbed circles around her clit. “Don’t stop.”

The possessive, envious animal inside of him shoved all manner of conscience aside and he pulled his hand away, shoved her jeans down to her knees and yanked down her underwear. The pent-up emotions from being alone with his thoughts were overtaken by his lust for her. She gave a little startled cry as he spun her away from him and dropped his pants. Driven by his frustration and his need to claim her as his own, he bent her over the sink and slammed himself into her.

Christa covered her mouth, surprised by how forceful he was. He held the back of her head with one hand and her hips with the other as he pounded into her again and again. He made no move to get her off, which surprised her even more. Her free hand braced herself against the sink but he was slamming into her so hard, her arm slipped into the sink, still full of water.

Dean groaned as she slipped and her ass lifted just a little higher but he didn’t lose his pace. The only thing in his mind was to fuck her hard and fast and give her something to think about the rest of the day. She was panting and trying not to make any noise, which drove him crazy. He shoved himself into her even harder, clenching his jaw as his breathing grew labored.

Blue eyes shut, Christa punctuated her breathing with small sounds that she couldn’t hold back. He’d never taken her like this before and she loved every second of it. She was used to Sam claiming her with somewhat rough sex and it felt like Dean was determined to do the same. Used to his thrusts, now, she pushed back against him a little bit as her way of saying she wouldn’t submit that easily.

A grin spread across his face when she started pushing back on him. That was the Christa he knew – the one who believed she’d never belong to anyone. His grip on her hair tightened and he pulled back, taking away her leverage. She gasped and slid her dry hand between her legs.

Breathing hard through his nose, Dean closed his eyes and grunted pushing himself past the edge. He barely pulled out of her in time as he came.

Christa swallowed an immensely disappointed noise and stopped touching herself. “Fuck,” she whispered as he grabbed a dish towel to wipe her off. After he did, she pulled up her underwear and pants and stood over the sink until she heard him leave. “Fuck,” she said louder and bit her lip. She had half a mind to go after him and sit on his face for leaving her aching and desperate to get off the way he did. “Fuck,” she said one more time before leaving the kitchen to go back to the library, wanting to scream.

Sam joined her fifteen minutes later and watched her furiously scribble cuneiform on the sheet of paper that was quickly filling up with notes. “Sumerian?” He asked, glancing at the reference book. “Why are you writing in Sumerian?”

“My nightmare,” Christa replied. “I can only remember a couple phrases from it but I think I can translate the entire ritual if I dream it again.”

“What do you have so far?” He swung a chair around and straddled it backwards next to her.

Christa sighed and chewed her lip. “I’m not sure, Sam. I don’t think it’s good.” She pushed her notes over to him and he looked them over.

“ _Sharaku_? I know that means, like, to give or offer a present or sacrifice.” He paused and read more of her work. “ _Ati me peta babka?_ ” His brow furrowed. “This is from your nightmare?”

Christa studied his face. “Samuel Winchester how the fuck do you know Sumerian?”

Sam looked up at her and shrugged innocently. “Just picked it up.”

“Uh huh. Nobody just picks up Sumerian,” Christa said incredulously. “Sam!”

“Fine! I’ve been studying ancient languages because I figured they might come in handy. Sanskrit, Aramaic, Babylonian, Sumerian, Akkadian, all of them.” He blushed a little bit; he knew Christa wouldn’t judge him for being nerdy but it was still odd to admit he liked learning weird shit. He did his shy half-grin.

Christa thought his shyness was insanely sexy. She was also still revved up from her rendezvous with Dean, which she sort of felt bad about. Christa licked her lips and Sam saw something in her eyes that looked a lot like desire. “That’s kinda hot,” she said quietly.

Sam smiled and scoffed. “Yeah, okay,” he started.

“No, seriously,” she interrupted, turning to face him. “It is. And you could help me translate the chant! If I can remember it all.”

“Okay,” Sam replied and nodded slowly. “Why are you so determined to find out what your nightmare is saying?”

“Because I think it might help us find out who or what summoned Lilith. So, what does this other phrase say?”

Sam examined the phrase and looked between it and the cuneiform symbols. “If I’m correct, it translates to something like, ‘gatekeeper open your gate for me.’”

“Creepy. Sounds like something a summoning chant would have, that’s for damn sure.”

She was completely serious and Sam felt a little uneasy. “Yeah, maybe,” he agreed. “So how do we get you to remember the entire chant?”

Christa shrugged. “I guess I have to fall asleep, first.”

Sam studied her face again. There was still something in her eyes that was making him think about things he wanted to do to her.


	12. I Wanna Know What Love Is

“I can’t just fall asleep. It’s not that easy,” Christa argued as she pulled an old shirt over her head. She tied her hair up into a knot on the back of her head and picked up her head phones. “I have to tire myself out.”

“And you’re sure you don’t want me to come with you? I like jogging,” Sam said as he leaned against her door, arms folded over his chest.

“Your legs are also ten miles longer than mine and you’d leave me in the dust,” she stuck her tongue out at him as he rolled his eyes. “I like running alone but thank you for the offer.” She moved towards him and leaned up to kiss him on the cheek. “Walk me out?”

They headed to the exit together as Christa strapped her phone’s arm band in place. Dean was in the war room with his feet up on the table, his laptop open to some stupid video of people hurting themselves. “Where you two going?” He examined Christa’s outfit and then made a disapproving face. “Yuck, running?”

“Yeah,” she and Sam said at the same time. “Yeah,” Christa said again by herself. “I’m going for a run. Figured it’d help tire me out and I can get some sleep in order to crack that nightmare.”

Dean just narrowed his eyes slightly and nodded. He watched his brother lean down and kiss Christa before she headed up the steps and out the door.

“You just gonna let her go off alone like that?” He asked Sam almost accusingly.

“Yeah, Dean, she’s a grown woman. She can handle herself. She has lived through all manner of other bullshit, including you,” he jabbed more than a little seriously.

Dean’s eyes rolled. “Sorry I asked.”

Sam ran a hand through his hair. “I know you’re worried about her. I can see it on your face. I’m worried, too. She told me what her nightmare was,”

“She did?” Dean interrupted, feeling slightly miffed that she told Sam and not him.

“She didn’t tell you?” Sam asked. He was ashamed at how happy he was that Dean had no idea what she’d been dreaming about.

Dean shook his head and clicked out of the web browser, focusing his attention on Sam. “Nah, I got the vibe she didn’t really want to talk about it. Guess the Sam Winchester patented method of prying worked its charm again.”

Sam noticed the edge in Dean’s gibe but ignored it. Whatever was going on with Dean had nothing to do with him. “Look, man, I just care about her a lot.”

“She’s a risk, Sam.”

“I know that, Dean! Jesus! You don’t think I think about that every time I see her?”

Dean shrugged again and bit back a snide remark. He had no real room to give Sam a hard time after choosing the other Christa over his own safety. And truth be told, he’d probably choose this one, too. “So anyway, what’s Miss Edelwood dreaming about?”

“Witches. She says it’s a coven of witches who chant the same phrases and always slit her throat right before she wakes up.”

“Jesus,” Dean muttered. He was angry that she didn’t tell him how bad it was and how easily she brushed it off with him in the car the other night. At least now he knew why she was so petrified in the shower when he snuck up on her. “What are the witches chanting? Some kind of spell?”

“We’re not sure, yet. It’s in Sumerian.”

“Soom-what?”

“Sumerian. It’s an ancient language that dates back to the time of the birth of civilization, basically. The Sumerians also developed the first alphabet to write down their history on clay tablets.”

“Fascinating,” Dean sarcastically remarked.

It was Sam’s turn to roll his eyes. “And what we have so far is a phrase that translates to something like, ‘gatekeeper, open your gate for me,’ and ‘I give you an offering.’”

“Sounds like some witch bullshit, alright,” Dean muttered. “I need a beer. We’re out so I’m going to the store. Need anything?”

Sam shook his head as Dean stood up and grabbed his car keys.

Christa avoided the main road. She’d been out for half an hour and she forgot how good it felt to stretch her legs like this. The late November afternoon was unseasonably warm and dry and she breathed in the smells of fall around her.

An hour later, she returned to the bunker, satisfied with her run.

She went straight to her room to get clean clothes and then headed into the showers. The elastic released her hair and she finger combed it as the water heated up before she disrobed and stepped under the stream of water. She was actually looking forward to a nap, now.

When she finished showering and drying off, she got dressed and twisted the towel around her wet hair before she went to go find the boys and alert them of her presence. They were in the living room watching a football game and drinking. “Hey, nerds,” she announced. Sam turned around immediately and Dean didn’t move.

“Hey, Chris, how was your run?”

“Great. Just letting you know I’m headed for a nap so hopefully we can knock this thing out.”

Sam nodded and got up. Dean watched him out of his peripheral vision.

“Did you want me to be there so when you wake up,”

“No, Sam,” she cut him off, almost too quickly and her eyes darted over to Dean. “But if I’m not awake in two hours, come get me?”

He smiled, nodded, and kissed her forehead.

“Sleep tight, princess,” Dean called without turning to her.

Christa stuck her tongue out at the back of his head and Sam laughed, then ushered her off towards her room.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay?” Sam asked one more time while he stood in the doorway.

“Sam, you and I both know there won’t be much sleeping if you’re with me.”

A small smirk tugged at Sam’s lips. “I can behave.”

She just gave him a pointed look and made a shooing motion with her hand. Sam blew her a kiss and she blew one back, then clicked off her lamp.

She took a breath and closed her eyes, determined to face her nightmare head-on.

_As the blades skimmed across her skin and sank into her flesh from all directions, Christa lifted the gun and aimed at the witch in front of her. She squeezed the trigger as a blade swept across the front of her throat._

She woke up gasping and holding her throat as she had before but immediately reached for the lamp switch. Christa rubbed her eyes and took deep breaths to calm down while repeating their chant in her mind. She had managed to get another two phrases – or what she hoped was close enough to them. She disentangled herself from the covers and pulled on a pair of jeans and a tee shirt before heading straight to the library.

Sam looked up at her when she strode in, a determined and focused look on her face. He didn’t say anything as she sat down across from him and scribbled the phonetics of the words she’d heard in her dream. She handed him the paper and he read the words in front of him: ‘ _kasadu! usella mituti ikkalu baltuti_.’

“Is this it?”

Christa shook her head. “No. There’s at least one more phrase. I know they repeat ‘baltuti’ and ‘mituti’ again, so whatever we can get from those words, I’m sure we’re almost there.”

Sam nodded and clicked his laptop mouse pad a few times and opened the Sumerian texts in front of him. Within half an hour, he had the words translated. “So, the first word, ‘kasadu,’ it means to arrive or an arrival.” He glanced up at Christa and saw anxiety in her eyes before he looked back down at his materials. “The full phrase you gave me translates into something like, ‘raise the dead, here consuming the living.’” He paused and then sat back, scratching his head.

“Shit,” Christa said, looking as unhappy as ever.

“Yeah, this is definitely a summoning spell.”

“But you guys, I mean, other me? Killed-killed Lilith. She’s not coming back, right? So what if I’m seeing what’s already happened, somehow?”

“Have you ever had precog dreams before?”

Christa shook her head again but thought for a minute. She knew she used to have really bad dreams when she was younger but always chalked it up to her mother being a hunter. Her imagination ran wild and it didn’t help hearing Sam and Dean talk about what their dad hunted. That was why her mom always waited until the next morning to discuss the hunt, even after Christa was well into her teens. “I don’t know, Sam.”

“It’s really strange, I’ll give you that. We need the last couple phrases, though.”

“Oh, you’ll get them, I’m sure. I don’t even think I can sleep anymore without dreaming about these goddamn witches. But Sam?” She waited until he was focused on her. “This time it was weird. This time, I fought back. I mean they still slit my throat and stabbed the shit out of me but I got a shot off with the gun.”

Sam rubbed his cheek thoughtfully. “That’s something to consider. The fact you can lucid dream while having a repeat nightmare might be a good sign.”

“Might be?”

“Well, yeah, since we don’t know if you’re dreaming past or future events or just having really fucked up nightmares in general.”

“This is the only nightmare,” she corrected him. They made eye contact and she sighed. “Yeah, I’ll get those last phrases tonight, I’m sure.”

“I might not need them,” Sam said thoughtfully. “I’ll see if I can find any kind of lead on what we’re dealing with, as far as the last bits of the spell.”

“And maybe see if we can find out who still speaks Sumerian?” Christa said with a twinge of sarcasm.

“Might be a bit more difficult,” Sam replied, his fingers already flying over the keys.

“Is there anything I can do?” Christa asked as she watched him work. He was so intensely focused when he got into research and usually she’d be right beside him buried in stacks of books.

“I don’t think so. Not yet, at least. Why don’t you and Dean go grab some dinner and maybe I’ll have something for you later.” He glanced up at her and saw her studying him with a look of adoration in her eyes. He flashed his lop-sided grin at her and looked back down at his laptop.

“I sure hope you do,” she said playfully as she walked around the table to wrap her arms around his shoulders. She leaned forward and kissed his cheek. “Don’t work too hard,” she whispered into his ear as she pulled away.

Sam bit back a groan when her lips ghosted past his ear and though he wanted to catch her arm and pull her onto his lap, he had work to do and it was never going to get done if she stuck around. “I won’t. See you in a little while.”

“We’ll bring you something back,” she said as she left the library to go put on her boots and then find Dean.

She found him in the living room with his feet up on the table and a beer in his hand.

“Did you save some for the rest of the class?” Christa asked as she looked at the beer.

Dean’s brow furrowed – hadn’t the other Christa said almost the exact same thing to him? A cold chill went down his spine and he shook his head. “Nope. Last one, sweetheart.”

“Ugh. Well, that’s fine, I guess. We’ll stop and get more. C’mon, Sam wants us to make a grub run.”

Dean peered around her looking for his brother. “And where is that big lug, anyway?”

“Head’s stuck in a book. He said for us to go. So,” she gestured for him to get off his ass.

“Fine,” he grumbled and chugged the last of the beer.

“How many of those have you had, Dean?” Christa asked, wondering if he was okay to drive.

“Enough,” he replied with a sarcastic smile and shoved his socked feet into his boots.

“What’s with you tonight?” She demanded as she folded her arms over her chest. She didn’t like angry-drunk Dean. She didn’t think she’d done anything to piss him off but who really ever knew with this guy?

“Nothin’,” he shot back.

“Jesus, fine. Go get food by yourself. I’m not riding with you like this.” Christa stepped back as Dean stood up.

“You’re not riding with me at all, sweetheart. You’re driving. Let’s go.” He tossed his keys at her and she barely caught them, surprise evident on her face. Christa swore under her breath – Dean never offered his keys if he could help it. She turned and walked toward the garage when he called out from behind her. “Might want a jacket – it’s cold out.”

“I’ll manage,” she shot back and opened the door to the garage. Sure enough, the temperature had dropped significantly. She slid into the driver’s side of the black Chevy and cranked the engine, waiting for Dean. It was a couple minutes later when he slid into the passenger seat and she instantly saw what had taken him so long – he’d stopped to pull a jacket on over his button-up. Christa swore she could see his eyeballs swimming as she pulled out of the garage and onto the unnamed gravel road leading to the power plant.

The first stop she made was the liquor store. Despite her telling Dean to stay in the car, he followed her inside. Thankfully he didn’t touch anything and didn’t say much, either. He seemed content to just follow her around as she grabbed a couple six packs and paid at the register. She put the beer in the back seat and drove him to the diner where he and Sam always had a booth open for them. “Let’s get some food in you, huh?” She said light-heartedly as he stumbled out of the car. Christa wondered if he’d only been drinking beer. Instinctively, she went over to help steady him and he waved her off so she went inside and waited for his drunk ass.

When the hostess saw him walk in, she smiled widely and her entire face flushed. “Hey, Dean,” she said quietly, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. “Sam with you?”

“Nah, left him at home. This lovely lady is chauffeuring me around tonight,” he said with a shit-eating grin on his face. He clapped Christa on the shoulder and the hostess eyed her warily.

“Oh. Okay then. Right this way,” she smiled meekly at Christa and Christa rolled her eyes. The hostess would be really fucking cute if she weren’t seventeen. Dean tilted his head and watched her walk ahead of them until Christa slapped the back of his head.

“She’s a child, Dean!” She hissed.

“I can look.”

“No. You actually can’t,” Christa scolded him under her breath.

“Jealous?” He asked with a grin.

“Fuck you, Winchester.”

“Mm, already did that today, but who am I to say no to a beautiful woman?”

Christa just gave him a bewildered look as the hostess laid menus on the table. The girl gave Christa another once-over and then hurried away without looking at Dean again. As she exhaled, she thought it was going to be a long night. She slid in one side of the booth and Dean slid in on the other side of the semi-circular bench. He didn’t make a move to sit particularly close to her and that was fine with Christa. They ordered for themselves and Christa made sure the server knew she’d placing a to-go order later.

“For Sam?”

“Yeah, his usual, please,” Christa said with a kind smile. She’d always treated wait staff as kindly as possible since she waited tables in high school and knew how rough it could be.

Christa thankfully had somewhat of an appetite again. She happily dug in to her food, well aware she was being stared at. She glanced up as Dean took another massive bite of his burger, staring at her and chewing with his mouth wide open.

“You are fucking gross sometimes, Winchester.”

“You love it,” he mumbled around a mouthful of food.

Christa made a disgusted face and pushed his water closer to him. “Drink. Water.”

It was Dean’s turn to make a disgusted face and he pushed it away and grabbed her soda instead. “No thanks.” He took a big sip and Christa sighed – at least it wasn’t alcoholic.

“I’m not taking you home like this. God knows you might try to start a fight with Sam or some stupid shit,” Christa said as she cradled her chin in her hand. She’d take the rest of her food back with her since she wasn’t especially hungry at the moment.

“Yeah and I’d knock him flat on his ass for being such a nerd,” Dean replied.

Christa shook her head. “What the hell happened today? Did you guys get into it or something?” Dean just gave her a look that screamed he wasn’t about to tell her shit so she dropped it. “Nevermind. Sorry for trying to help.”

“You know what would help?” Dean asked as he swallowed another mouthful of food. He licked his lips and grinned at Christa. “Not sleeping with Sam anymore.”

Her face dropped and she stared at him as if he’d grown a third head. “Excuse me?”

Dean filled his mouth with fries and nodded. “I don’t want you to sleep with Sam anymore.”

“That is not your decision to make,” Christa hissed. Dean gave her a side-eye glance and she leaned in closer to him so her voice wouldn’t carry. “You knew damn well what the status was when you decided to show up in Spokane uninvited.”

He leaned in as well, as if playing chicken to see which of them would back off first. “You hadn’t seen Sam in almost two months after disappearing and avoiding telling him where you’d be.”

“Which makes the fact you hunted me down that much creepier.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “I was making sure you were safe. You were the one who blurted out that you wanted me.”

Christa scoffed and sat back just a bit. “Oh, please! You really expect me to believe that if I hadn’t left, we wouldn’t still be here in this situation?”

His glance swept down her body and back up and he shook his head. “Nah, I would’ve had you bent over the kitchen sink weeks ago.”

Her jaw clenched as she felt her face flush and she was left speechless. Dean’s eyes gleamed with amusement at her sudden lack of an argument.

“You done, Winchester?” She asked and flagged down their server. The server brought Sam’s food in a box, an extra box for her food, and the check.  Christa slapped down money on the table and got up without waiting for Dean. When she passed the hostess stand, she said, “He’s not worth it, honey.”

The hostess’s jaw dropped and she stared at Christa as she flew out the doors. Dean came by seconds later, almost tripping over the sign. The young woman watched as Dean’s Impala pulled up out front and he climbed into the passenger seat.

“So what’re we doing about this?” Dean asked as Christa pulled out of the parking lot.

“I’m not breaking up with Sam,” Christa replied.

“You guys aren’t even dating! It’s not breaking up!” Dean exclaimed.

“Why are you so jealous all of a sudden? You don’t give two shits about me for almost two decades and now you’re trying to dictate my love life?”

Dean just stared at her and he sighed. “You know that’s not true,” he said slowly. “You had made your decision to put up those walls up around me.” He watched her face soften. “I just know that when we were over there, in the other world, you were,” he paused and took a breath as if searching for the right words. “You were mine. You chose me. I felt like we started over, except I knew what I was missing that time. You got under my skin and I don’t know how to get you out.”

“I don’t belong to anyone, Winchester. Regardless of how I was in another reality.”

“I know. I know that. I just almost lost you, her.” His voice almost cracked. “I did lose her,” he finished inaudibly. 

Christa’s heart pounded in her chest. She’d never seen him so vulnerable, so open. Instead of turning right to get back to the bunker, she headed straight and into the dark country. When they were on a side road surrounded by nothing but corn fields, Christa pulled over and shut off the car.

“What are you doing?” Dean asked as he looked around.

Christa unbuckled her belt, got out of the driver’s seat, and climbed into the back. Dean turned around to watch her as she took off her pants. He stared at her dumbly and she stared back. “You gonna make me do it myself, Winchester?” She asked as she took off her shirt.

Dean was in the backseat on top of her before she could take a breath. He wasted no time in undressing from the waist down so Christa expected more of the rough, domineering sex from earlier. She was okay with that, since this time he couldn’t just leave her on the edge and walk away. Instead, Dean pulled off her underwear and immediately buried his face between her legs.

* * *

Christa whimpered as he rocked his hips back and forth, taking his time, making love to her. She wanted to keep him like this forever. He buried his face in her neck and then her phone started ringing.

Dean slowed and looked down at her as it continued to ring. “Answer it,” he demanded.

“Dean,” Christa whispered.

“Answer it,” he said again.

Christa reached down and grabbed her phone out of her jeans after a moment. She shook her head when she saw Sam’s face on the caller ID. The phone stopped ringing. Seconds later, Sam called back.

“Answer it,” Dean said again; his eyes told her he wasn’t going to say it again.

As soon as her finger swiped across the screen, Dean resumed his thrusting.

“Hey,” she said, trying not to sound breathless. “You did?” She covered her mouth as Dean shoved himself into her and tweaked a nipple.

“Yeah, I found the coven. They’ve been around for centuries, probably some of the oldest witches we’ve ever seen. Super powerful.” Sam replied.

Christa swallowed a moan as Dean’s mouth covered her other nipple. She took her hand off her mouth and clenched her fist. “Where are they?” She managed to ask.

“I’m not sure but there have been omens around Lafayette, Louisiana the past couple months. More than anywhere else. I’m guessing that’s where they are.”

Dean slammed his hips into her, trying to make her give up the ghost. She squeezed her eyes shut and clenched her jaw.

“Chris? You there?”

“Yeah, sorry, Sam.” Christa breathed as Dean’s fingertips started rubbing her clit. “We’ll be back in a little while, okay?”

“Yeah, see you soon.” Sam hung up and stared at his phone. Either Christa was upset or… surely she and Dean? He shook his head and convinced himself he was only suspicious because they were actually getting along these days.

Christa threw her phone to the floor of the car and finally released the moan she’d been holding back. “Dean! Fuck!”

“Come for me,” he whispered before he crushed his mouth into hers.

* * *

Sam sat at the library table with his laptop and all of his materials spread out around him. He made a little bit of room for his food and ate while Christa reviewed his research. She had showered and changed clothes as soon as they got back, which he found a little weird.

“This is some really good work, Sam,” she said as she skimmed over the details.

He clicked the keyboard a couple times and opened a new screen, which Christa leaned over him to see. “This is what I was talking about with the omens. I’ve taken every instance of the local papers mentioning anything similar to one for the past several months.” She put her hand on his shoulder as she bent over him, reading the clippings and scrolling down. Dean leaned against the wall behind her, enjoying the view.

“This looks solid. I’m ready to gank some demonic witches when you guys are,” Christa replied. She felt Dean’s eyes boring holes into her backside and though she loved it when he looked at her, she wished he wouldn’t do it so openly with Sam around. The phone call earlier made her feel guilty enough. She stood up and glanced back at Dean over her shoulder. His eyes traveled up her back to meet hers and she almost shivered with how intensely dark his eyes were.

Sam cleared his throat softly and Christa’s attention went back to him. “Well, actually, I think it would be best if you didn’t go to Lafayette.”

“Excuse me?”

He sighed. “It’s just, with your dream and us not knowing if it’s a premonition, I don’t think you should go.”

Christa stepped back and folded her arms over her chest, staring at Sam like he had just insulted her grandmother. “Um, that’s not an option, Sam. I’m the only one of us who knows what they even look like.”

“I agree with Sam,” Dean spoke up and Christa scoffed in response. “It’s too much of a risk.”

“Guys. I have saved your asses a few times, now. I think I can handle a few witches. Besides, you guys will be there to help me, unlike in my dreams.”

The brothers exchanged A Look and Sam scratched his forehead. “Chris, I really don’t think you should go.”

“You don’t really get a say in the matter, Sammy,” Christa fired back. “I’m going. End of story.”

“It’s too much”

“of a risk, yes, I know, Dean,” she interrupted the older Winchester and rolled her eyes. “Have you hunted with yourself before? Do you have any idea how impossible it is keep tabs on your asses sometimes?” The brothers looked at her as if they were waiting for her to finish and give in. “You know what? Let’s just talk about it in the morning, okay?”

“Yeah, okay. Let’s all get some sleep and talk about it in the morning,” Sam agreed and gave Christa a lop-sided smile. She tousled his hair and smiled back at him.

“Beer?” Christa asked the guys. They both nodded and followed her to the kitchen.

Dean had never quite reached full-on sobriety from his earlier drinking, so it was easier to feed him a few beers and a couple shots to get him down for the count. Christa still had his keys and fully intended on sneaking off to Louisiana on her own tonight once she got Sam nice and buzzed.

Christa enjoyed herself with both of them for the first time in a long time, just hanging out, drinking, and goofing off. Dean fell asleep at the table after a couple hours. When Sam noticed, he grabbed Christa around the waist and pulled her against him before he started swaying back and forth.

“Sam Winchester, are you dancing?” She teased, smiling up at him.

“We don’t dance enough, do we?” He asked, grinning back at her. She shook her head and laughed quietly as he spun her out and back. When she was nestled against his chest again, he leaned down and kissed her softly.

Christa returned his kiss but pulled away after a couple moments. “Sam, you know I love you, right? Both of you,” she added, staring up into his eyes.

“Yeah? You love Dean, huh? I guess he has his redeeming qualities,” he teased. Just then, Dean snored loudly and it sent both Sam and Christa into a fit of giggles. “See? You can always find him when he sleeps.”

“Stop!” Christa whispered through her laughter. “That was mean.”

“Well?!”

She shook her head and laughed more. “You know what I mean. I love both of you and I care about you, a lot.”

Sam nodded, his expression turning a little more serious. “What’s this about?”

Christa took a deep breath. “I’ve been… Dean’s… we’ve been sleeping together. Recently.” She slowly lifted her gaze to meet his and found a strange calmness in eyes. He stopped dancing, though, and she felt her heart pound in her chest. He just stared down at her without saying anything for several seconds. “Sam?”

“Is that why you left?”

“No, Sam, God, no. I left so you could grieve Jessica without feeling bad about it,” she paused and sighed again. “Kind of. I mean I don’t know why but I couldn’t stop thinking about Dean when you guys got back. It was like some weird sort of pull to him and that wasn’t fair to you.”

“Neither is actually sleeping with him behind my back,” Sam said quietly.

Christa closed her eyes and pressed her forehead into his shoulder. “I know. I’m sorry.”

He pulled away from her and ran a hand through his hair. “Why are you telling me this now?”

She shrugged and shook her head. “I don’t know. I felt like you should know, I guess. And better to find out from me than Dean.”

“Yeah, I don’t know, Chris. I guess I need some time to process this. I mean, it was one thing seeing the other you with Dean and it’s another to,”

“I know, Sam. I know,” she interrupted. “I understand. Take as long as you need.” She saw his gaze go over to his brother and she could almost feel how much Sam wanted to shake Dean awake and slug him. “Why don’t we get some sleep? It’s been a long day.”

Sam nodded and he flicked the lights off as he and Christa headed back to the dormitories, leaving Dean asleep at the table. He walked her down to her room with his hand on her lower back. Despite what he said about needing time to process what she told him, he couldn’t help but feel possessive of her. She had picked him, not Dean, hadn’t she? Sam thought so. Christa opened her door and turned to face Sam, giving him a small smile. “Night, Sam,” she started when he leaned down and kissed her deeply. Christa was taken by surprise but she returned his kiss and when she closed her eyes, she didn’t see Dean’s face behind her eyelids.


	13. Cold As Ice

Christa tilted her head back as Sam reached up and grabbed her breasts. She moaned softly, riding him slowly so she could feel every inch of him. Sam watched her intently and slid his hands back down to her hips. He was gently nudging his hips up as she came down on him but he let her set the pace and intensity. She leaned forward and braced herself on his broad shoulders and Sam groaned at the change in angle. Her head angled down more and she kissed him, pushing her tongue into his mouth.

He reciprocated and nudged his hips a little harder into her, loving the tiny sounds she made between breaths. “Sam, fuck,” she sighed. Sam decided he wanted her to really feel him fill her and held her tightly as he rolled her onto her back. He pumped his hips a few times into her, enjoying the feeling of her around him. She moaned his name again and whimpered as he pulled out of her.

“On your stomach,” he panted, moving aside so she could flip over. Christa did as she was told and he admired her backside and kissed her shoulders before he repositioned himself over her. With one hand on her ass and the other on the bed next to her, Sam pushed his length into her agonizingly slowly. Her hips pushed back against him and he filled her to the base. He reached under her and slid his hand between her legs. “I want to feel you come, Christa.”

She did within minutes; she came so hard that he had to shove himself back in and watched as she bit back a scream. He kept stimulating her and she came again almost immediately. Sam spanked her a couple times, blissful as her muscles clenched around him. His hips pounded into her again without giving her time to recover and he slammed into her until he came into the condom.

* * *

Christa slid a shirt over her head, grabbed her bags, and silently left the room while Sam snored quietly. First, she snuck down to the armory and acquired the witch-killing bullets and Dean’s favorite gun with the ivory inlay on the butt. She made sure she had Dean’s keys and pulled on her jeans when she got down the hall and out of the dormitories. Her boots went on after she got into the garage then she slung her bags into the back seat of the Impala and started the car, thankful for sound-proofed construction.

She flicked the radio over to a country station and headed down Interstate 35 without plans to stop until she needed to fill the tank.

Eight hours later, she pulled into a motel outside Dallas, Texas and got herself a room. Sam and Dean would probably be up by now and notice a distinct lack of her presence but she hoped they wouldn’t put two and two together for a couple more hours. Christa turned off her phone and collapsed onto the bed, fully clothed.

* * *

“Sam, where the hell is my car?” Dean asked as he stormed into the kitchen. “Did she fucking steal my car, Sam? Where the hell is my car!”

“Dude! Chill. I’m sure she just went out for coffee or something. She’ll be back.”

Seething, Dean turned and went down the hall to her room and flung the door open. He noticed her bags were gone. He went down to the armory and checked their inventory. “Sonofabitch!” He growled and jogged back to the kitchen. “She’s gone, Sam. She took my gun and the witch bullets.”

“Are you sure, Dean?”

“Yes, I’m sure, Sam!”

Sam shifted and ran a hand through his hair. “God dammit, Chris. What have you done?” He grabbed his phone and dialed her number; not surprised when it went straight to voicemail.

“How could you let her leave?!” Dean demanded, raising his voice.

“I didn’t let her do anything, Dean! She snuck out!”

“Well great job keeping tabs on her, huh, Sam?”

“Dean she played us like a fiddle. She got you wasted drunk and she… I fell asleep.”

Dean’s nostrils flared as he read between the lines of what Sam said. “We need a car and we needed one eight hours ago.” He seriously considered putting out an APB for his car but his luck with law enforcement wasn’t exactly the best track record.

Christa hummed along to one of Dean’s _Foreigner_ tapes as she coasted down I-20 into Shreveport. She stopped for gas and food, making it quick. She was positive that the guys knew she was gone – and not out for errands – by now. Her nerves were singing and she had a growing feeling of unease in her stomach but she continued on. Dreams weren’t real life – she could handle a couple of witches. She hadn’t dreamt of them when she stopped at the motel earlier and was optimistic that she’d be walking into something far less sinister than a summoning ritual.

“Chris, I need you to call me back as soon as you can,” Sam said, trying to sound as calm as possible. Inside, he was panicking. She couldn’t possibly have made it all the way to Lafayette by now, so with their luck she was still somewhere near Dallas. “Please, Chris.” He hung up and Dean finished hot-wiring the little Ford sedan with a hoot of victory. Sam slid his phone into his pocket and finished changing out the plates before he hopped into the passenger seat.

“A stick shift, Dean?”

“What? You got something better?” Dean glared at him and jerkily shifted into gear.

Sam shook his head; a permanent line of worry creased his forehead.

Christa merged onto 49 South and filled the gas tank one last time outside Opelousas, Louisiana. While inside the station, she grabbed a map off the rack and studied it closely. It didn’t give her what she needed, which was the public works offices or sewer company headquarters in Lafayette. She left without the map. It was well into dusk when she pulled into Lafayette and most businesses and government buildings were closing. She found a motel and checked in under a name Sam and Dean didn’t know of. It was too late to go to the library and she kicked herself for not grabbing Sam’s laptop on her way out. Without any way of knowing where the witches were, exactly, she had nothing to go off of.

Chewing on her lip, she finally decided to turn her phone on. She had fifteen missed calls and ten voicemails – all from Sam. She ignored them and opened the web browser, hoping she could get into the archives of the public works.

“Her phone just turned on,” Sam said as the notification popped up. They were still a couple hours north of Dallas but Dean was driving borderline recklessly. “She’s already in Lafayette,” he sighed and punched the dash.

“We’ll get there, Sam,” Dean reassured him. He wasn’t so sure, himself, and truth be told he had a bad feeling about whether or not he’d ever see her alive again.

Sam just nodded and tried calling her again.

“Fuck,” Christa swore as Sam’s name appeared on her phone. Hesitantly, she answered and forced cheerfulness into her voice. “Hey, you!”

“Christa, what the fuck are you doing?” She heard Dean yell into the speaker.

She winced and pulled the phone away from her ear and then put them on speakerphone, too. “Christ, Dean, you’re gonna make me go deaf.”

“You stole my car!” He yelled.

“I actually borrowed it. You can have it back when you get here,” she said with a smile on her face.

“Chris, seriously, what are you doing?” Sam asked. Dean yelled all sorts of curse words at her but it sounded like Sam took her off speaker.

“I am hunting a coven of evil, nasty witches, Sam. What are you up to?”

“I asked you not to go,” Sam said as his patience ran thin. “Dean and I can handle this. Please don’t go after them.”

“What was that?” Christa asked, pretending to lose signal. “I – hear – signal – it!” Wrinkling her nose at the future tongue-lashing she was going to get from both of them, she hung up and put her phone in airplane mode. No more calls from the Winchesters. Her attention went back to the city works plans she’d pulled up on her phone. Most of it was sewage but she knew she was looking for storm drains – she would have remembered sewage in her nightmare.

A few minutes later, she was studying the storm drain channels, trying to determine where a group of witches might be holding a candle-lit séance to raise a demon from the dead – again.

They were an hour outside Lafayette and almost running on fumes. “Dean, pull over and get gas!”

“We can make it, Sammy!”

“Not going 80 we can’t! We need to get there and if we run out of gas, we won’t. So pull over!”

Dean cursed his brother under his breath and pulled off on the next exit that had a gas station sign.

* * *

Not wanting to carry a crowbar or move manhole covers, Christa found a storm drain opening big enough to accommodate her if she was careful. She tucked her shirt in to avoid scraping her skin and lowered herself in slowly. It was a tight fit but she managed after some clever adjustments. She just hoped she didn’t have to climb out the same way because there was no way she was going to be able to do that.

As she crept into the tunnels, an overwhelming fear settled in the pit of her stomach.

Several minutes later, she saw the opening to her right, illuminated by candlelight. She took a deep, steadying breath, and cocked the gun.

* * *

“You said she described a drain pipe?” Dean asked as they pulled into town.

“Yeah, a storm drain. Something that’s supposed to carry storm water away from the city to avoid flooding. Dean, the Impala!”

Sure enough, the Impala was parked outside a Salvation Army. Across the street was a storm drain opening. Dean pulled into the lot beside his car and Sam jumped out of the car and ran across the street to see if he could fit into the opening. He was too broad. “Dean! Get a crowbar!” Sam yelled over his shoulder. He was on his stomach and shined a flashlight into the drain. “Christa! Christa can you hear me?!”

* * *

Christa carefully placed one foot in front of the other as the chanting grew louder. She thought she heard her name but didn’t turn around. It was probably just her imagination screaming at her to turn around. Instead, she carried on.

Dean jumped down into the manhole and Sam followed. “Which way?!”

“Split up. It can’t be far from this area.” Sam said. Dean took off to the left and Sam went running to the right.

She peeked around the corner and sure enough, she saw dark, shadowy figures swaying as they chanted. She could get a couple shots from here but that would alert them of her location and she had nowhere to run. She had nowhere to run, anyway. Christa peeked around again and took aim at the closest witch then squeezed the trigger.

It hit the mark.

Fueled with adrenaline, Christa fired another shot at the next closest witch before they had time to react. It also hit the mark. Two down, four to go.

Dean heard gunfire from somewhere behind him and immediately turned around, sprinting back in the direction Sam had gone. Another shot echoed through the tunnels as he closed the distance between him and Sam.

“Dean! Dean this way!” Sam yelled from the darkness.

Christa took one more breath and then turned the corner, aiming the gun at whatever moved. She got off another shot and dropped that witch – three down. Another witch moved towards her and she fired again. Four down. Holding steady, trying not to shake like a leaf, she confidently approached the remaining witches in the ritual with a smirk on her face.

“Time’s up, bitches,” she said.

Her stomach sank when laughter filled the chamber and the witches she’d dropped began to stand up. She had failed to take into account that in her nightmare, they were already demons. She drew the demon blade from the clasp at her hip.

She swung her arm and shoved the blade deep into one of the cloaked figures and the eerie orange light of a demon dissipating illuminated the darkness under the hood.

Two more gun shots and Sam and Dean knew they were close. In another minute, Sam skidded to a halt as he saw the candlelight on the wall to the right. Dean slammed up behind him, panting.

Then Christa screamed.

Every one of the last five witches pulled out a blade curved like a talon and sharp enough to shave frog’s hair. The metal slashed into her arms and back and she screamed when she felt one of the blades sink into her side. In agonizing pain, Christa dropped to her knees and shakily lifted the gun, aiming it directly at the witch in front of her – the one who always slit her throat.

“Eat shit,” she muttered and squeezed the trigger. She thought she heard Sam yell her name but Christa fell to the floor as several more blades sank into her. She felt something take the demon blade out of her hand as she screamed again.

“Christa! No!” Sam yelled as Dean fired at the witches. He used bullets carved with devil’s traps and it immobilized one, two, three of the witches. Sam ran forward and grabbed the closest standing witch, flinging her into Dean’s line of fire. The last witch was kneeling over Christa, a blade pressed to her throat. “Dean!” He yelled, running forward to kick the witch’s arm away. When he was within reach, that witch raised a hand to fling him aside but it didn’t do anything besides knock the wind out of Sam.

He grunted and stumbled backwards then Dean took aim and fired at the witch his brother had been running at. The bullet struck true and the witch fell backwards, screaming in agony as the devil’s trap seared into her.

Sam crawled over to Christa’s body and he swallowed the lump that formed in his throat. Her blue eyes were half-open and her pulse was slow. “Chris? Hey, Chris. It’s Sam. Wake up. Wake up, Christa.” He gently stroked her cheek, trying not to move her or any of the knives.

“Sam we gotta get her out of her here,” Dean said as he approached.

Christa’s eyes blinked slowly and a small grin tugged at her blood-covered lips. “Sammy,” she breathed, trying to focus on him.

“Sssh, stop, stop Christa. We’ll get you out of here.” He gently cradled her head and brushed hair out of her face. “Dean, help me pick her up.”

Dean moved around to her head and gently lifted her shoulders up, propping her against him as Sam crouched and pulled one of her arms over him. Christa winced as Dean did the same, the boys lifting her to her feet. She grinned at Dean, delirious. “Hey, you,” she whispered.

“Don’t talk,” Dean said hoarsely. Tears stung his eyes. Together, he and Sam carefully and slowly walked her back to the main storm drain opening. They had to stop as she coughed up blood a couple of times. “Sammy,” Dean said with a warning tone in his voice.

Sam shook his head. He wasn’t going to give up on her. They got back to the ladder and Dean asked with his eyes how in the hell they were going to lift her out. “Carefully,” Sam hissed. Dean went up, first, and Sam put Christa’s hands on the ladder. “Can you climb, Chris? I need you to climb so we can get you out of here.”

Christa shuddered and her eyes fluttered closed for a moment before she nodded. She made it up three rungs before she tired. Sam moved under her so she was seated on his shoulders as she clung to the ladder, wincing in pain. “Sam,” she grunted. “Hurts.”

“Sorry, Chris. You need to climb with me, okay?” He put one foot on the bottom rung and looked up, making sure she was holding onto the ladder. “Ready? Here we go. Dean! We’re coming up!” She was heavy but Sam only had to get her torso out of the manhole and Dean could pull her out the rest of the way. It took several minutes and Dean was constantly talking to her to keep her conscious but her shoulders finally came above ground. Dean gently hooked his hands under her arms and pulled her out and off Sam’s shoulders. Without the extra weight, Sam finished ascending quickly and moved the manhole cover back into place.

They laid her in the back seat of the Impala on her stomach, trying not to jostle the knives in her back and side. Her breathing was shallow and more labored. Sam squeezed into the back on the floor to keep her from sliding around while Dean sped them to the closest hospital.

* * *

 “Her wounds are deeply inflicted and her are lungs are punctured, which means we have to keep draining blood from them,” the doctor said solemnly.

Sam stared at him, barely hearing his words. “Is she going to live?”

“It’s not looking good,” the doctor replied slowly. “It’s touch-and-go at the moment. She is not responsive to much,”

“When can we see her?” Dean interrupted.

Sam glanced down at his brother but didn’t admonish him for his rudeness.

The doctor pursed his lips. “Come on back. She might not have much time.”

The Winchesters followed the doctor back to the recovery room and stood on either side of Christa’s bed. She had a mask on her face helping her breathe and several IV bags, one of which was filled with blood. Sam focused on her face as he gently took her hand in his. Dean took her other hand after wiping away a tear that rolled down his cheek.

“She suffered injuries to some of her other internal organs but right now we’re most concerned about her lungs. Her heart, however, wasn’t punctured. If we can get the fluid out of her lungs and keep it out, we have hope. I’m sorry again.” The doctor left the room and shut the door.

Sam bowed his head and took in a ragged breath. He squeezed her hand and moved it up to his lips, kissing her knuckles as tears streamed down his face.

Dean brushed away another tear and stared up at the ceiling. He silently prayed to Castiel, willing to forgive him for everything else he’d done or been involved with fucking up their lives lately if he’d just save Christa. Several minutes passed and Castiel didn’t show. Dean clenched his jaw and swallowed hard, just letting the tears fall as his brother murmured to Christa, willing her to wake up and open her eyes.

They stayed with her the rest of the night and in the morning the nurses tried to usher the brothers to the cafeteria but they refused to move. Dean finally gave in and went to get coffee, reminded of the time he’d snuck in coffee and donuts for the other Christa after her encounter with Lilith. His heart ached to see Christa awake, smiling, sneaking coffee behind the nurse’s back. By the time he returned, Sam was alone again.

“Hey,” Dean said quietly as he held out a coffee for his brother.

“Thanks,” Sam mumbled and let go of Christa’s hand to take the coffee cup.

“Anything?”

Sam shook his head and rubbed his eyes, which were red from crying and lack of sleep. “I can’t do this again, Dean,” he said hoarsely.

“I know, Sammy.” Dean put a comforting hand on Sam’s shoulder. “She’ll pull through. Christa’s as strong as she is stubborn – she’ll put up a fight.”

Sam nodded, wiping his face and sniffling. A low moan from Christa had them both whipping around towards her and rushing to her bedside. Sam’s hand instantly found hers again and he gently squeezed. “Chris?”

Another soft moan escaped her before she slowly opened her eyes. Sam forced a huge smile down at her and Dean watched her intently. Her eyes, usually so deep and shining, seemed dull and weary. They moved from Sam over to Dean and her brow furrowed slightly as she met Dean’s gaze. Her other hand reached up to pull off the oxygen mask.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. Her eyes went back to Sam and he shook his head, trying to smile as fresh tears fell from his eyes. “Sammy, I,”

“Ssh,” Sam said and kissed her knuckles again. “It’s okay. You’re going to be okay.”

Her eyes closed again and two minutes later, her heart monitor flat-lined.

Sam and Dean were shoved aside as a team of nurses and doctors crowded into the room. Time seemed to slow down and all Dean could hear was his own heartbeat. They were shoved out into the hallway and Sam snarled, demanding he be let back in. Dean had to restrain him so they wouldn’t get thrown out.

“Sam! Stop! Let them work. She won’t live if we get in their way.”

“She’s dying, Dean!”

“I know,” Dean yelled back. “I know,” he said a little quieter as a tear rolled down his cheek.

Sam wrestled his arm from his brother’s grasp and turned to the wall, pressing his forehead against it. Dean could see his lips moving, wondering if he was praying and if so, to whom. He stood back, waiting for the door to open.

Several minutes passed before the door opened and the team emerged. Their faces were somber. The doctor emerged and approached Dean while Sam fled back into the room. “I’m so sorry,”

“She’s gone?” Dean interrupted, covering his mouth with his hand.

The doctor nodded his affirmation. “We have grief counselors on campus, if you’re interested.”

“We’re not,” Dean shot back and stepped around the doctor and into the room.

He stopped short when he saw Sam covering Christa’s lifeless torso with his. “I asked you not to go,” he murmured, crying.

“Sam,” Dean said softly. “Sam maybe there’s something we can do.”

“Like what, Dean? Sell our souls? Summon Death and demand He give her back? Those all come with a price and she wouldn’t want us to pay it. Just let me say goodbye.”

Dean nodded and swallowed another lump in his throat. He left the room and closed the door so Sam could say goodbye to his best friend. A chair had been placed outside the room and Dean sat down in it, cradling his forehead in his hands with his elbows on his knees, fighting back the storm of emotions inside of him. “God damn you, Cas.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t make it, Dean.”

His head didn’t even lift at the sound of Castiel’s voice. “So why are you here, now?”

“To give you and Sam my condolences. Christa sacrificed herself to stop Lilith once and for all, you know. She saved this world and many others by giving her life.”

“She didn’t have to do that!” Dean yelled, standing up and closing the distance between the angel and himself. “We could have done the job and she wouldn’t have had to get hurt! Where were you, huh? You could have been helping us look after her! Making sure she was safe.”

Castiel’s blue eyes showed a hint of sadness in them as Dean yelled in his face. “I had to keep Heaven in order. It’s chaos up there, Dean, and making sure things are taken care of up there meant that I couldn’t be down here. And the coven did a very good job at warding their location from angels.”

The door to the room opened behind Dean and he turned to see Sam wipe his eyes. Dean watched his brother’s face go from pure desolation to pure rage as his hazel eyes focused on Castiel. “Now you show up?!” Sam yelled, striding over to them and grabbing the lapels on Cas’s coat. “Where the fuck were you?! I’ve been praying and,” Sam sobbed and pushed Castiel away. “It doesn’t matter. Shit.” He wiped his mouth and strode down the hall away from the angel and his brother.

Dean gave Castiel one more look before he turned and went into Christa’s room, shutting the door behind him.

As he approached her bed, he imagined her eyes fluttering open and a coy grin appearing on her face along with a playful ribbing. But when he touched her face, he felt the coolness of her skin and focused on the blueness of her lips. The machines next to her were unplugged and the IV line had been taken out of her arm. Dean brushed his thumb across her forehead and swallowed. “Hey, sweetheart,” he said softly. He had to grin as he imagined her spirit waiting to be transported screaming at him for calling her that. His free hand wiped his eye and he sniffed. “Don’t worry, we’ll give you a proper hunter’s burial so you can’t haunt our sorry asses.” Dean could have sworn he felt a coolness graze his cheek when he said that. He hated saying goodbye, so he leaned down and kissed her lips one last time before he left the room.

They took her back to Kansas that morning, driving all day without stopping unless it was for gas. Dean never took the _Foreigner_ tape out of his deck and he didn’t let Sam change the music. They ended up driving in silence for about eight hours.

When they got back to the bunker they got to work setting up a funeral pyre. Her belongings were scattered on top of it and salted; Dean saw one of his button-up shirts in the pile of clothes. He snatched it off the pyre when Sam wasn’t around and held it to his face, breathing deeply. It smelled like her perfume and somewhat like her sweat. He tied it around his waist.

“Dean, it’s time.” Sam said from behind him.

“Yep,” Dean replied, wiping his eyes before he turned and followed Sam to the car. They gently slid her shrouded body out of the back seat and Sam took her shoulders while Dean held her legs. Together they placed her on the pyre, together they doused the wood in accelerant, and together they tossed matches onto the fuel-soaked wood.

Sam handed Dean a small bottle of whisky. Dean opened it and took a long gulp and handed it off to Sam. They watched the pyre burn until it collapsed into coal and embers, nothing left but scraps and chunks of wood. It was late and they headed inside to drink themselves into a stupor before passing out.

The next morning, Sam sat on Christa’s bed for awhile. When Dean woke up and went to take a shower, he passed by her room and leaned against the door frame for a minute.

“I can’t believe she’s gone,” Sam said quietly.

“I know,” Dean replied. They coexisted in silence for another few minutes before Dean left Sam alone.

Later, as Sam stripped the bed and checked the room for any more of her personal effects, he found her mother’s journal. He held it in his hands and stared at it, debating on whether or not to go ahead and burn it. It was more her mother’s, he rationalized, so it was probably okay to keep. He took it to his room and tucked it into his desk drawer.

Over the next few weeks, other hunters called in for their help and to offer their condolences. Sam and Dean took as many cases as they could without dropping from exhaustion. They didn’t talk about Christa or how she had managed to leave both of them with gaping holes in their chests.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. Comments are appreciated! I have an alternate ending to this story which is published as chapter 14. You can stop here or read on!


	14. When It Comes To Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is my "alternate" ending for this story. I re-read it and decided it needed to be published.

Sam knew his brother was drifting further from him the longer they went without talking about how important she had been to both of them but he couldn’t bring himself to say her name.

A couple of months passed and things started to get back to normal for them. They were eating dinner one night in silence when Sam grinned and started laughing into his food.

“Your spaghetti tell a good joke?” Dean quipped. It was the longest sentence Dean had uttered in a week.

Sam shook his head and wiped tears from his eyes. Confused, Dean waited for Sam to offer an explanation. He knew his little brother was still grieving pretty badly but this was new.

“Dean,” Sam said between laughs. He finally cleared his throat and pulled it together, “Dean do you remember when Chris took the Impala for a joyride when she was sixteen?”

Unable to help it, Dean grinned at the memory as it came flooding back to him. He chuckled and shook his head. “He made her wash and wax the car the next day.”

“Yeah, Dad was _pissed_ when he thought it was you.”

“That’s the day you gave her that mix tape, right?”

Sam nodded, grinning widely. “She kept it for years,” he whispered, his face settling into a somber expression.

Dean suddenly found a piece of noodle to scoot around his plate. “I dared her to do it,” he said quietly. “I told her she’d be too chicken to take the car out. I never thought she’d do it, but man, she was fearless.” Dean wiped a stray tear from his cheek.

“She was,” Sam agreed, his voice cracking. “I miss her, Dean.”

“Yeah. Me, too, Sammy.”

Sam’s eyes came up and he finally met his brother’s teary green gaze. “She told me, you know. About you two. Just before she… that last night.”

Dean swallowed, his face hardening. If Sam expected him to open up about anything, he was sorely mistaken. “Yeah? And?”

“And I forgave her, Dean. Instantly. It was like, just being with her was enough, you know? Even if she was in love with you, too, or whatever.”

“She wasn’t in love with me, Sam,” Dean interrupted, scoffing. “She loved you. She always considered your feelings, first. You guys were best friends; ain’t no way I was gonna come between that.”

Sam sat in silence and leaned back a little, studying his brother’s face. How could he not know? “She never told you,” he said quietly.

Dean avoided his gaze and clenched his jaw.

“Christa loved you, Dean.”

“Yeah? Well it didn’t stop her from going and getting killed!” Dean exploded, banging his fist on the table.

Sam just nodded slowly. “She was the most stubborn person I’ve ever met aside from you, man.” Dean shot a glare at his brother but his eyes softened when he saw his brother crying. “I know you loved her, too.” Sam finished.

Dean got up and stormed out of the room. He’d never sorted those emotions the night he drove around and drank a 40 in his car and now he had grief to deal with, as well.

Sam heard Dean’s door slam shut and sat at the table for a couple more minutes. He finally wiped his face and as he got ready to stand up, the hairs on the back of his neck started prickling. He let out a slow exhale and watched as his breath turn white in front of him. He turned around and Christa was leaning against the sink, a smirk on her lips. Sam blinked and she was still there.

“Chris?”

“Hey, Sammy,” she smiled.

“What are you, how are you here?”

“I think you know how, Sam,” she said, her blue eyes fixed on him as he stood up and slowly approached her. “I won’t bite,” she smiled, “unless you want me to.”

Sam thought hard for a minute and then he remembered the journal. “Your mom’s journal,” he answered his own question.

Christa nodded. “Except it was my journal, Sam. You should know better by now.”

Sam sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I can burn it.”

“I don’t know about all that,” Christa said as she moved towards him. She was as beautiful as she was in life, her blue eyes bright and full of mischief. “I kinda like hanging out around here, keeping tabs on you oafs.”

“I had a dream the other night,” Sam began. He stopped when Christa bit her lip and shook her head. “That was you? It was really you?”

“Well, not really me, obviously.”

“Come back,” Sam said and reached out for her. His hand passed through her cheek and he swallowed a lump in his throat.

“You know I can’t do that, Sammy,” Christa said softly.

“Sam, I’m heading out,” Dean started as he came back into the kitchen. He stopped short when he saw his brother talking to Christa. “What the hell is going on?”

“Hey, you,” Christa said, turning towards him. She put her hands in the back pockets of her shorts and winked at Dean.

“I uh, I kept her mom’s journal,”

“My. My journal, Sam,” she corrected him again.

Dean looked at his brother, bewildered. He knew better than that.

“But maybe this is a good chance for all of us to say goodbye,” Christa suggested after a moment of awkward silence.

The brothers just stood there in awe, mouths agape. “You selfish bitch!” Dean finally exclaimed. Christa winced and stepped back as he came marching up to her. “How could you do that? We asked you not to go! We told you we would handle it! And then you went,” he was crying freely, now, “and got yourself killed. You left me! If you really loved me, loved us, you wouldn’t’ve gone.”

Christa blinked slowly, her blue eyes filled with sadness and regret. She lowered her gaze to the floor and bit her lip. “So much for sentimental goodbyes, huh?”

Sam looked from Dean to Christa. His brother was broken down, finally grieving outwardly for a woman who’d spent most of her life hating him to end up loving him. And yet here they all were. “I’ll go get the journal,” Sam whispered and left.

Dean wiped his face and glared at Christa. He wanted to slap her and hold her at the same time. Grief boiled over into anger which simmered back into grief ad nauseum. “How could you just leave me?”

“Dean, I,”

“You told Sam you loved me?”

“I did.”

“Why… why didn’t you ever tell me?” He clenched his jaw as another stream of tears fell down his cheeks.

“I wanted to,” she whispered. “But I had to go, Dean.”

“Bullshit! You could have waited for us. You could have stayed safe and alive, here, with us!”

Christa shook her head, smiling sadly at Dean. “It was written for me. I was always supposed to go. Ever since I was little, I knew I was supposed to do something scary and important. If I had let you go, you’d be the ones dead. And then where would that leave me? Or the rest of the world?”

“Fuck the rest of the world,” Dean shouted. Christa winced but didn’t back off anymore. He moved closer to her and she could see his lip trembling and nostrils flaring. “How do I touch you again?” He asked in a whisper.

“Dean, don’t,” Christa said and closed her eyes.”Just say goodbye, please. Don’t make this any harder.”

Dean reached forward anyway, his hand passing right through her. She whimpered softly and shivered, flickering in and out. “Christa, I can’t say goodbye.”

“Yes, you can. I’m not leaving until you do. I promised I’d never leave you again – and I already broke that promise, once.”

Sam returned with the journal tucked into his arm. Christa’s eyes went to him and saw the despair on his face. If she could feel, she would think this was the most painful thing she’d ever done.

Behind her, she felt the reaper’s presence. She’d evaded him for months, simply because Sam had the journal, and now he was going to burn it and sever her tie to the physical plane of existence. “I don’t have much time,” Christa whispered, looking from Sam to Dean. She closed her eyes and gathered their sadness and anger into a ball in her mind. Using those emotions, she willed herself to become tangible. She remembered the loss and the heartache of leaving them behind and seeing them in her hospital room right before she died; how she didn’t even get to tell them she loved them. Her anger at being taken so quickly from them solidified her form. “Dean,” she said, opening her eyes and reaching forward.

Dean gasped as she touched him. She was cold but he didn’t care. He enveloped her in his arms and squeezed his eyes shut, letting his tears fall into her hair.

Sam set the journal down and waited.

“I miss you,” Dean whispered into her ear. “God, I miss you.”

“I love you, too, Dean,” she whispered back and kissed his cheek. She slowly pulled away from him as the reaper came closer. She turned to Sam and he held his arms out, like he always did, and she wrapped her arms around his neck. His arms closed around her and he lifted her off the ground, hugging her to him, feeling her against him one last time. “I love you, Sam,” she whispered, breathing in the smell of his hair.

“I love you, Chris,” Sam cried into her neck.

“I have to go, Sammy,” she said, her voice cracking with anguish.

“No, please.” He held her tighter, crying freely, as if he could keep her against him forever. Christa shook her head and petted his hair as if to soothe him and kissed his jaw.

“Sam, it’s time,” Dean spoke up, his voice thick with sadness.

Sam slowly lowered her back to the floor and she smiled up at him, caressing his cheek with her thumb. “You’ll be alright,” she assured him.

He took her hand in his as Dean tossed the journal into the sink and salted it down. He opened it to the middle and lit some of the pages on fire with his lighter before he stepped back and took Christa’s other hand. The three of them stood watching the journal burn slowly. When the majority of it had caught fire, Christa squeezed both of their hands. “See ya never,” she whispered as she dissipated.

Dean’s hand clenched into a fist and Sam’s hung limp at his side. After a moment, Dean turned and left the bunker. Sam retreated to the library and opened his laptop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the feels!! I just felt like this ending was... more complete.


End file.
